A Whole New World (With You)
by justsomebrittanagleek
Summary: There she goes. The girl Santana Lopez has been hopelessly in love with for the past fifteen years. Warning: Superhero!Santana
1. Part One: Living In The Real World

**Title: **A Whole New World (With You) [Part One]  
**Pairing: **Santana Lopez/Brittany Pierce  
**Rating:** R  
**Length:** 5100  
**Summary: **There she goes. The girl Santana Lopez has been hopelessly in love with for the past fifteen years.

**Notes: **After that picture of Naya was released wearing glasses, everyone's been going on a Superman!Santana thing and so I decided to join in. Except I'm making mine a high school version and a little different. You'll see what I mean soon enough. Also, this is unbeta'd so any mistakes are my own!

* * *

There she goes. The girl Santana Lopez has been hopelessly in love with for the past fifteen years.

It's pathetic really, and she does wonder from time to time when the hell her life turned into one huge cliché, but whatever. What's done is done and she's accepted the fact that she's the awkward kid who everyone bumps into but no-one actually sees, and that she's truly, madly, deeply in love with a girl she can never get. Not when she's the school nerd that walks around with her hair in a simply pony and thick, black rimmed glasses perched upon her nose.

And that's something else she's accepted; the fact that she has as much chance of dating Brittany as Puckerman has of getting into Rachel Berry's pants. That girl's been on the virgin train for the most part of high school and it seems since joining the Celibacy Club, Puckerman's chances are just slimming. But whatever, it's entertaining to watch him try and simultaneously make a complete fool out of himself.

Anyway, she's standing by her locker, pretending to mind her own business whilst watching Brittany glide down in hallway with her books clutched to her chest and a smile that could light up the entire town on her face, when she's shoved _hard _into the locker and all her books fall to the ground.

Sometimes it's really, _really _difficult for Santana not to use her powers to her own advantage and hypnotize Puckerman into whipping down his trousers in the cafeteria to show how small his dick _really _is, but she knows all hell would break loose if she used her powers in public, and so she just lets the bullying continue and does absolutely fuck all about it.

So, in the same manner as always, she sighs, nudges her glasses further up her nose and bends down to collect her books; ignoring the burning urge to grab Puckerman, fly him to the Empire State building and hang him off the antennae like a freaking flag just to see how much of a big man he is. But she knows better than that because there's a reason she lives with her grandparents.

Well, they're not really her grandparents but she never knew her real ones. She's not even entirely sure they lived on planet Earth but she doesn't spend too much time dwelling on things she'll never find the answer to. These grandparents were her parents friends. Dearly trusted friends who offered to take Santana on and raise her and she's eternally grateful for that.

See, she was only a little kid when her parents were killed, but even now she remembers it like it was yesterday. She remembers the orange of the fire licking up the building her parents were in, rescuing people they didn't even know. She remembers the way the air smelt that night, like burning wood, burnt flesh and the strong sweetness of fear, and the way her mom screamed her name a second before the last beam fell and the whole building collapsed.

Back then, her parents were known in Chicago as the resident superheroes who always managed to save the day, despite only having one superpower each, and Santana just _knows _that her mom could have made it out alive of that burning house that night. The woman could run faster than the speed of light and she could have been straight out of there and Santana could have been back in her arms within a second.

Her dad though? She's not so sure. He was stretchier than Mr. Elastic from Fantastic Four, and loved his wife unconditionally; but it seemed they cancelled each other out because after the postmortem came out, it was revealed that her dad covered her mom to protect her but the fire was just too strong, too hot. Too deadly.

He'd died trying to save the person he loved and even if her mother didn't manage to make it out alive, Santana knows she _could _have but didn't because she wouldn't leave without her husband. That's just how they were. Always a pair and always together.

Santana can't help but feel bitter, though. If people didn't know of her parents superpowers, they'd still be alive today. The screams of those civilians in that burning house wouldn't have perked their senses, and they wouldn't have dropped everything to go and save them.

And _that's _why Santana's secret is going to remain a secret.

After all, people took advantage of her parents duel powers, and yet here Santana is with so many that she can barely count them on two hands. Her powers range from superhuman speed to X Ray vision and being able to fly to superhuman hearing. And even though she has to practice to get her powers up to par, just like regular people have to train to get their strength up, there's still thousands of people who would kill to get their hands on Santana or take advantage of her.

And to be honest, she just doesn't want that limelight. She just doesn't want that responsibility; not after the tragic end it brought her parents.

It sounds cowardly, but it's not.

Cause for _so_long she's always been the kid at the front of the class who arrives early to get a good seat. For so long she's always been the last one picked at gym and the one who sits on the field alone, munching on a tuna and cucumber sandwich her grandma made her and reading something written by Emily Bronte. And because of that, she just knows that the second people know about her powers, the second she's everyone's best friend.

And she's just not up for that.

Her thoughts are interrupted by someone knocking heavily into her side, causing her glasses to fall off her face and onto the floor. She grunts, a little more than pissed off, and squeezes her eyes shut whilst blindly searching because there's a reason she wears those damn things and that's because of damage control. Ever since she was seven years old, and developed the strange habit of shooting heat rays out her eyes, she's had to wear these damn glasses to make sure it doesn't spontaneously happen.

Again.

* * *

_Seven year old Santana was sitting in her bedroom, elbows propped up against the window sill as she glanced at the world outside. _

_There was nothing special about that day, but she remembers it was sunny and there were a few birds chirping on the tree directly outside her bedroom window. Oh, and the fact that it was the first day she ever killed something with her stupid powers._

"_Mija, lunch is ready," her grandfather called from the doorway._

_Santana glanced towards him and grinned, excitedly, getting down from the chair and bouncing over to her grandpa. "Look, abuelo! He's back!" She exclaimed, tugging on his hand and bringing him back towards the window._

_When they got there, Santana pointed out of it to where a small brown squirrel was sitting on the branch, nibbling on a piece of bread from the bowl her grandma put out in the garden earlier. It was quite possibly the cutest animal she'd ever seen, and it'd been visiting for the past few days which made it even more exciting because it just kept coming back. She liked to think she had something to do with it, and little did she know at that time, she actually _did. _Her mind hadn't quite developed hypnosis quite yet, but it was at the beginnings and apparently worked on small living creatures._

"_Si, dear, but abuela has made you tuna sandwiches, your favorite," her grandpa cooed, rubbing over her hair tenderly. "Now come on."_

"_But, abuelo..."_

"_No, come on, Tana," he turned her body but she kept her head facing the squirrel. "Time to go downstairs for lunch."_

_But being Santana, she didn't want to leave, and so she grabbed a hold on the window sill and knew that her grandfather wouldn't try and pry her off because last time that happened, the window frame was missing a tiny hand sized chunk. She frowned, pulling her brows together and tight as they would go and continued to stare at the squirrel with absolutely no intention of leaving. This squirrel was here to be seen and so she was going to do that. Even if there was a strange tingling bubbling in the back of her mind._

_She was such a stubborn child._

"_Let go," her grandfather said, softly, attempting to peel off her fingers._

"_No. I don't want to."_

"_Santana..."_

"_I want to stay here with Mr. Squirrel," she pouted and pointed back out the window._

_Her grandfather narrowed his eyes down at her and for the first time, she felt the burning embers in the back of her mind. It was a strange feeling, but being a child she didn't know any different and put it down to tears._

"_Mr Squirrel will still be here when you get back," he grabbed at her hand and tugged. "So come on."_

_And that was that._

_It felt like a small bomb exploded behind her eyelids and before she knew it there was a small crash and the squirrel was gone. Santana blinked, once, twice, and then felt wetness trail down her cheeks as she looked towards the window and found a small, circular hole in the glass; cracks webbing out from all sides. It all happened so quickly, and her grandfather was towering over her to peer down into the garden whilst she continued to gaze at the hole, completely blank in her mind._

_She didn't even know what she'd done until a hand covered her eyes and her grandfather was hugging her close, murmuring '_it's okay, sweetie'_ and '_he's in a better place now'_ into her hair._

_That was the day she swore to never harm another living creature ever again._

* * *

_The next day her grandma took her to a house out on Staten Island._

_That was the first time she met Dr. Holliday and the day she received her first pair of glasses._

* * *

There hasn't been a day since that she hasn't worn her glasses.

A hand on her shoulder brings her from her thoughts and she snaps her head around, attempting to scowl through closed eyes. Why is someone touching her?

"Here," the person says, and their voice is soft and sweet in the way that makes Santana's skin tingle.

She knows who it is instantly, and she's pretty sure she knew before because you know, superhuman senses and all, but the voice just confirms it. The hand from her shoulder slides down her arm, fingertips grazing over the inside of her bicep and forearm before reaching her hand and opening it up, palm up. Something light but hard is placed in the flat of it, and fingers slide through the gaps of her own, curling and urging to close around the object until she has a firm grip on things and she swears to God she almost passes out because _holy crap _Brittany's touching her.

"Thank you," she murmurs, hastily pulling her hand away and sliding her glasses back onto her face; blinking a few times to feign returning her vision to normal.

Brittany's barely inches away from her face and she swallows hard and jerks her head back, swiftly moving to stand as her hand snatches the last textbook away. Blue eyes flash with something unreadable but she ignores the way it settles low in her gut because she's already embarrassingly relieved that she hasn't randomly come out with _you're perfect or I love you _by now.

"Erm, thanks."

Moving to her feet, the blonde girl nods and smiles weakly. "That's okay."

Santana presses her lips together, probably looking more like she's trying hard to produce a smile than hide it, and closes her locker before walking away; her hand still on fire from where Brittany's fingers have just been.

* * *

Santana closes her eyes, breathes in deeply through her nose and feels the first sparks build at the back of her mind. When it builds up enough, she clenches her jaw and snaps her eyes open, shooting a heat ray across the length of the abandoned warehouse and hitting a rusting metal barrel which flies back against the wall at the impact.

A rush of adrenaline surges through her and cracking her knuckles, she zooms over towards the barrel in less than a second to catch it before it lands with a loud clang on the floor. She catches it, twisting at the waist and throwing it baseball style to the other end of the warehouse, soon realizing how much strength she put behind the throw and promptly panicking.

But it's not like this is the first time she's done this, and so she speeds over there quickly, sliding along the floor and leaning back to drag her hand along the concrete; the air whooshing past her as she skids on her side to make sure she's where the barrel will land. Obviously, it lands with precision in the palm of her hand and she slowly lowers it to the ground, straightening up and arching backwards to stretch herself again.

She refuses to get out of shape.

See, towards every end of the month, Santana has to let off some steam. It's something she's had to do every month since she was ten, because it turns out that when her powers aren't being used a lot, they tend to build up in energy and begin to toy with her emotions and hormones. And so when it gets to the point before she lashes out, she usually flies across the country to a variety of abandoned warehouses Google have found for her.

She only spends around two or three hours there, lifting old, broken down trucks and lining up rusting objects along the roof to practice shooting her heat rays, but it's still enough to quench her need for release for the next month.

Training used to be a chore, but now Santana finds it rather relaxing, seeing as school and living with her grandparents gets stressful at times, and so it's time like these where she lets her hair down and just goes for it. When she's here, alone, it's like nothing else exists and that's why she's never even brought her grandparents to come and see her train. It's like she's in her own little world and for that she's grateful.

Because living in the real world can just get too much sometimes, especially for someone like Santana.

* * *

It's 11pm when she gets home, and she can feel the dried sweat covering every inch of her skin and the need for a shower burning into her brain. Her muscles ache a little, and fatigue is scratching at her eyelids – because believe it or not, superheroes _do _sleep (even though she's not a superhero) – and she just kind of wants to have a shower and climb into bed and just freaking sleep.

Not to mention, she was at the abandoned warehouse in Idaho for a good eight hours, straight from school, without even telling her grandparents where she was going and no doubt she's going to have her ear chewed off for that one.

She slowly hovers down until she's covered by the trees in her back yard when her house comes into view, and then as she perches on one of the branches, which bends beneath her weight, she drops out the tree like a ninja, landing on the balls of her feet with her palms spread out on the dirt beside her feet. Even if she can fly, sometimes it's nice to take advantage of the flexibility her human genes gave her and combine it with her superhuman strength to create some serious air.

There are _some _benefits to super powers, after all.

Moving to her feet, she begins her walk to the house and takes a step back with her hand on the screen door to look up at her grandparents bedroom. The window's open and the lights are off which luckily, means that they should be asleep so she can just sneak around, do her thing and go to sleep without playing twenty questions with her grandma. That can wait for the morning.

On her tiptoes, she creeps in through the kitchen and through the living room to the stairs, shrugging her backpack off her shoulder and dropping it to the floor as she begins to head to her room. But then the light flicks on and she pauses, mid-step.

"You know for a girl with superpowers, you're not very quiet, mija."

Santana scrunches up her face and twists on the balls of her feet, offering an apologetic smile to her grandmother who's sitting on the piano stool, running her fingers over the keys of the piano in front of her.

"Abuela..." she starts, hoping to explain.

"Tana," her grandma interrupts, glancing at her with a soft expression. "I understand that you need to let out some of that energy, and I know what you're like when you don't let it off," she sighs and stands, heading towards Santana with that same expression. It makes Santana feel fucking guilty and she looks down to the floor to try and avoid it, but it doesn't work.

"But please, can you at least tell me or your abuelo where you're going and when you'll be back. We were worried."

Santana sucks in her bottom lip and gnaws gently, nodding in shame. "Yes. Sorry, abuela."

Her grandma walks towards her and cups her cheek, smiling at her when they lock eyes. "As your punishment you get to go and put the trash out, now."

"Awh, grandma," Santana whines, tipping her head back. "Please?" She begs, her bones and muscles screaming for her bed. "Can I do it in the morning?"

"No, Santana. Now go and do it and be in bed within twenty minutes."

Sighing in defeat, she accepts her punishment and drags herself to the kitchen ape-style to grab the trash. The sound of the stairs creaking lets her know her grandma's gone upstairs and she rolls her eyes before muttering unintelligible phrases under her breath to release some of the anger. Technically speaking she could just go and burn this in the backyard, or like, throw it as far as she can and make it land in Mexico or something, but she's pretty sure one of her grandparents will check in the morning. So she might as well do it properly.

Twisting the black bag in her hand, she holds down the outside of the trashcan and pulls the bag out, tying the top into a knot to ensure none of the contents falls out. She does a quick x-ray scan to check there's no liquid sloshing about to land on her feet as she carries it out and when that's done, and she finds nothing, she swiftly moves to the front door, opening it and heading outside to the main trashcan to deposit the rubbish.

She steps outside, feeling the sudden temperature change on her skin – but smirking because she can't feel it so she barely ever gets too cold or too hot – and heads down to the pavement where the bin is. Lifting the lid and throwing the bag in, she glances to the sky and notices just how many stars are out tonight, and wonders if her grandma will shout at her for climbing onto the roof to stare at the for a few hours.

It's something she's been doing for as long as she can remember, and it always makes her heart warm a little because the only words ever directed to her from her parents were in a damn letter left for her, and they spoke about the stars and how they'd always be one, watching down on Santana.

A slight choke escapes her lips as she tips her head forward once more and feels the tell tale sting of tears at her eyes. That's something she thinks is always weird, that she can cry. She's pretty sure in comics superheroes can't cry, and yeah, even though she isn't one, she does wonder why she can. Human genes is always the thing she's put it down on, because her mom was half human after all, but still it's weird.

A door slams behind her and steps follow, and she turns around quickly, eyes growing wide at the sight of Brittany descending the stoop of her house hastily with crossed arms and a stern expression. It worries Santana immediately, and she perks her ear up to hear the shouts and yells coming from inside the blonde girl's house. Almost immediately she stops, feeling like she's prying and glances towards Brittany again who's stood in the middle of her front yard, staring at the stars with her arms crossed in the same way Santana was a minute ago. Maybe Brittany's got her own star up there, too.

"They're pretty beautiful, huh?" It comes out before she can stop it and heat blossoms across her skin as Brittany snaps her attention towards her.

Blue eyes harden for a split second before softening with recognition. "Yeah," the blonde girl lets out through an exhale, looking back towards the sky and then towards Santana once more. "They are."

Santana shifts awkwardly, breathing out a sigh because she's pretty sure this is her first ever full on conversation with Brittany and she can't even take it past the damn stars. She has seriously _no _game.

"Are you okay?" She breathes after a minute, eyes flicking back to the house when Brittany stares at her quizzically.

It's a stupid question, because Brittany's quite obviously _not _okay. The girl has freaking tears on her face and her parents are yelling at each other in the house she _just _stormed out of , and now Santana just wants to fucking slap herself for being such an idiot. Seriously, the no game thing? Understatement.

Brittany doesn't answer for a long while, just stares at the ground and circles the toe of her shoe in the dirt on the floor. Santana almost gives up right then and there with a _"sorry to disturb you"_and a sheepish walk back towards her house. But then the blonde girl tilts her head up and begins to walk towards her, blue eyes glossing over and she's pretty sure all the breath is ripped straight from her lungs when Brittany flings her arms around her neck and pulls her into a hug.

She didn't even know she had moved to the edge of her chain-link fence and so when this happens she's confused for more than one reason. Although her mind is mostly preoccupied with the fact that Brittany fucking Pierce is hugging her right now and not with the fac that somehow she gravitated towards the damn fence without realizing.

She barely has time to register the fact that this is actually happening and even then she's more focused on making sure her damn knees don't buckle embarrassingly. So much so that she doesn't even manage to send the command to her brain to hug back because she's so damn stunned.

"Sorry," Brittany sniffles as she shuffles back out the hug. "It just..." she trails off and begins to toy with her sleeve by her wrist and Santana drops her hands to the fence, holding herself up because her body might give out any second. "It just... It gets too much sometimes, y'know?" The blonde girl continues, locking eyes with Santana and squinting.

Santana nods. Yeah, she definitely knows. "Yeah," she agrees. "But I mean, you always have people to talk to if you wanna."

Brittany steps forward, eyes challenging but soft. "Like who?"

Feeling her heartbeat jolt a little, because it's quite obviously directed at her, Santana reaches up with one hand to rub at the back of her neck awkwardly. "I mean... I don't know... You have friends and–" she glances up and catches a perfect eyebrow arched her way.

And then she falters. She falters and stutters and _crap, _she's a compete fool_. _Words don't seem to forming in her mind and she's pretty sure if it weren't for her ethnicity she'd look like a tomato right now. Brittany's just beautiful and popular and _ugh, _it's terrifying to talk to her. This is probably the longest conversation they've ever had and Santana's already a freaking mess. Shaking her head and sucking in a deep breath, she drops her hands to the fence and grabs a hold of it, trying to find her bearings and preferably, the ability to speak properly.

"Well, I mean–You know... _I _am always here if you need to–"

A hand covers her own, and it sends sparks up through her skin. She snaps her head up, scared that Brittany can feel it too and rejects their connection, but then blue eyes are staring at her with innocence and sincerity and it makes something in Santana's chest clench. If she wasn't already in love with Brittany, she would've just fallen _hard._

Although she thinks she might have just fallen a little more.

"Thank you, Santana," the blonde girl whispers, dipping her head lowly and looking all kinds of gorgeous in the moonlight. "I'll hold you to your word."

Remembering she needs oxygen – well she probably doesn't but she has to at least _pretend _to seem human, right? – she breathes out and grins, a little idiotically, before nodding at the other girl to acknowledge her words. She didn't even know that Brittany knew her name. Which, thinking about it, is probably stupid because they've lived next to each other for the majority of their lives, but it still makes her heart flutter when her name rolls of the other girl's tongue like that.

Brittany smiles at her, nods and pats her hands twice before pulling away and glancing back at the house to sees the curtains twitch. "I better get back inside," she says, jutting her head towards the house. "I think my parents have woken my little sister up."

Santana perks her ear up subtly and hears the older Pierces yelling whilst tiny feet pad along the wood of the floors. A little squeak, and then Brittany's sister is grunting quietly as if she's climbing inside of something. There's another tiny squeak and then the heavier sound of breathing and low muttering's of "_please don't yell" _and "_it's okay Teddy, I'll protect you" _and Santana almost pinches her lips up at the side and frowns in sadness 'cause Brittany's sister is hiding inside her closet to get away from the sounds of her parents arguing and that just makes her sad.

"Yeah, she's up," Santana confirms without even meaning to and Brittany side eyes her, like she's about to ask how she knows but at the last second backs out as she heads back up to the house. It's relieving to say the least.

"Thank you again," Brittany says as she climbs the stoop. "

Santana nods instead of saying "_no problem" _and then smiles. "Bye, Brittany," she refrains from waving, simply glad that she held a conversation with Brittany without embarrassing herself too much. "I'll see you when I see you."

The blonde pauses as one hand pushes against the screen door of her house and twists her neck to gaze at Santana, narrowing her cat-like eyes and smirking. "Yeah... You too."

Santana heads inside without looking back. She can already feel the blue eyes watching her every move as she steps inside, thanks to her super senses, and if she turns she'll probably make a bigger dick of herself by tripping over the carpet or walking into an inanimate object and apologizing. Things like that always happen to her, even if she does have damn powers.

* * *

Her grandfather is sitting on the armchair in the corner of the living room when she gets there, but she barely even notices him as she throws herself down onto the sofa, one arm lying limply over her head and the other over her stomach, too occupied with the memories of the past few minutes.

Brittany Pierce just talked to her.

Brittany Pierce just hugged her.

Brittany Pierce just acknowledged her fucking _existence._

So maybe putting out the trash isn't such a bad punishment, after all.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Santana smiles wider and realizes she can't seem to wipe it off her face. No matter how strong she is.

"What's with the goofy smile, mija?"

Even though her cheeks ache, Santana somehow manages to grin a little wider and shrugs her shoulders – as much as she can in this position. "No reason, abuelo," she breathes out, jumping to her feet and moving towards him to press a kiss to his forehead as he lowers his newspaper and peers at her over his glasses. "I'm going to bed now."

Her grandfather shakes his head and rolls his eyes, but there's a smile on his face and Santana sticks her tongue out as she darts up the stairs towards her bedroom.

The smile doesn't leave her face until she falls asleep.

* * *

**What did you think?**


	2. Part Two: Hearing The News

**Title: **A Whole New World (With You) [Part Two]  
**Rating: **R  
**Length: **5500

**Notes: **Thought another chapter would let you get into the feel of this fic! Enjoy!

* * *

Santana feels oddly confident when she goes into school the next day, and she doesn't know why.

Nothing's changed.

She's still the awkward nerd and Brittany's still the hottest most popular girl to walk the halls of McKinley High. That's how it is and how it will be until graduation, where Santana can grab her certificate literally fly to the damn moon and live there if she wants to. Say goodbye to all these assholes who will most probably be washing her car at a red light in a couple of years, and go off to college.

Anyway, she heads into school and finds out her first class is gym. It's not her favorite class, but that's only because she's not allowed to show her true potential. Last year they were practicing on the track and one of the Cheer-bitches, Robin, challenged her to a race. It freaking _killed_ her to turn it down because she couldn't show her true potential ,and watch the smirk on Robin's face as she flipped her hair and walked off, chuckling about the "_stupid dork who wouldn't have been able to beat her unless there was a textbook at the end."_

The insult didn't even make any damn sense and Santana just had to stand there, all the mean while trying to keep herself under control. With one blink she could've turned Robin's gloriously long hair into a lop sided bob and she couldn't fucking do it. That _sucked _big time.

"So did you hear?"

Santana's lacing up her sneakers when Mercedes comes up to stretch and gossip beside her. They may not be best of friends, but that's mostly because Santana doesn't really _do _friends. Sure, last year she had Sam, but then his family had to move back to Kentucky and so she's basically stuck here on her own. But Mercedes is the closest thing she has to a friend. They hang out in classes, Mercedes tells Santana all the gossip about everyone because the girl seems to know pretty much _everything _about _everyone _and they band together when the teacher calls everyone to get into a 'pairs.' But that's about the extent of their friendship.

Not that the girl isn't nice or anything, it's just Santana's not planning on sticking around here long after Senior year so what's the point in trying to make friends now? She's done okay so far, even if she did have Sam. But she's a capable girl so it doesn't bother her that much.

"Hear what?" She asks, threading her laces into a loop and dropping her foot to switch to the other one, propping it up on the bench in the locker room.

"Apparently there's some guy in Ohio with like, superpowers," Mercedes whispers and glances around when Santana pulls her brows together in confusion. "You know, like a superhero."

Santana's eyes widen, and she's glad that this news rarely comes around because otherwise she would be looking rather suspicious at the moment. "A superhero? Like, Green Lantern type superhero?"

"Yeah. Do you remember back in the 90s? Where there was that couple over in Chicago who had superhuman powers?"

Santana's throat thickens. _Yeah, _she definitely knows them. They were her damn parents and it makes her eyes sting at the memory; but she can't let that show. So despite the thickening throat and the flood of memories that washes over her brain, she nods and murmurs, "Yeah, I think so."

"Well, apparently," Mercedes reaches down to touch her toes. "There's this guy who's randomly popped up saying that he has powers too and he's sick of hiding them. He recently found out that the couple back in the 90's had a kid and wants to find it 'cause then he won't be alone," she stands and straightens. "Something about all 'mutants' coming together," she flips her hair over her shoulder. "I didn't even know mutants _existed _until today. It's crazy, girl."

Santana's heart is somewhere down in her stomach now, and that's even after barely registering what Mercedes said after 'had a kid.' Someone knows that she exists. Maybe not specifically who she is and where she lives, but someone _knows _she's out there and it's spreading. And that's one thing she never wanted to happen: to be found as the superheroes kid. The one that stayed away from the limelight because that was what took her parents. She never wanted to be revealed as that because he grandparents never wanted the same fate for her and she never wanted the fame.

Still, even after the long moment of silence and panic, she needs to know more. "Wait, they had a kid?"

Mercedes eyes slide towards her, slightly quizzical and slightly confused. And she has a right to, as well. Santana just went into some weird shut down mode and back tracked on their conversation, focusing on one specific part that even Mercedes wasn't that focused on.

"Yeah but no-one's seen the kid in like, seventeen years."

"Then how do they even know she–_it _is still alive?"

Mercedes shrugs and crinkles her upper lip, suspicious of the questions and slip up. "I don't know... Maybe someone knows her or mutants have tracking devices implanted in them or something."

It's said as a joke, and a small chuckle even follows it, but Santana pauses and thinks over it for a second. Is that even possible? When she was a kid, did her parents put a chip in her ass cheek or something? Do all mutants know when they see other mutants? _Crap. _A guide to mutant knowledge would be really freaking handy right now.

"Ha, yeah," she replies, bringing her foot to the ground and stretching her arms above her head. "So, what does that guy want anyway? With the kid, I mean."

"Apparently he just wants to it. The paper's don't specify a reason or anything," Mercedes explains as the gym teacher calls the class over.

"Oh, right," Santana tries to say it as casual as possible, which she suspects isn't as casual as she hopes. "Well that's pretty cool, I guess."

The other girl nods and they both walk over to the huddle forming in the center of the gymnasium. Coach Bieste stands there, looking fierce as she holds a red ball in one hand, the other propped upon her hip and a scowl on her face. Santana rolls her eyes as the teacher announces they'll be playing dodge ball and one of the Cheer-bitches makes a snarky comment about Santana and how they're planning on knocking off her glasses.

Still, she can't help but feel slightly nervous about the news of a mutant coming out and somehow manages to lob the ball directly into Robin's sternum a little harder than necessary as she forgets to hold back on the power behind the throw.

She's not sure what it is, but it doesn't feel as good as she thought it would to know there's more people like her out there. It just seems a little off that after seventeen years, after two mutants – well one half mutant, half human and a mutant – were killed, that one would suddenly jump up and decide to reveal his powers.

And what makes it worse is someone knows she's out there.

And that just makes the unease in her chest grow.

* * *

"Did you hear?"

Santana barely has her foot in the door when her grandma jumps out of nowhere and asks the question. She stumbles back a little, catching her heel on the lip of the door and tumbles, but throws her hands out to brace herself on the door frame. Unfortunately, this means she momentarily forgets about the whole 'super strength' thing and manages to take a chunk out the frame.

She really needs to train some more and gain more self control because since the beginning of the year she's had to pay for seventeen door frames; all because she kept tripping up and attempted to catch herself.

"_Door Martusa_magazine, page 15," her grandma says, half-amused and half-monotonous as she eyes up the door frame.

Santana smiles apologetically and tilts her head to the side. "Expected in five to seven working days," she says, repeating the same statement she always does when this happens.

"So did you hear, mija?" Her grandma asks, walking back into the living room and hiking her dress up a little to take a seat in her armchair. Santana follows, shrugging her backpack off her shoulder and letting it fall to the floor as she slinks down to the sofa, resting her head against the back of the sofa and blinking away the fatigue that creeps behind her eyelids.

"Yeah, what's going on? Some guy wants to find me?"

Leaning forward, Santana's grandma reaches forward to switch the TV to the news where the presenter is shuffling his notes on the desk and grinning widely at the camera. At the bottom of the screen there's a blue banner running from side to side with the latest headlines on, reading:

_'Is there more to human life on __**this **__planet? Keep up with Kristen for more details on this mutant-y'_

Santana rolls her eyes and groans. Some people just don't get the whole privacy thing.

"Mija," her grandma says over the TV, voice dropping into a flat, serious tone. Santana sits up straighter and pays all her attention towards the woman; this conversation just got serious. "Apparently this man can track mutants and I need you to make sure you're careful. Careful about how you are around people and where you train."

"I will, abuela. But I might just go and see Holly to see if she knows anything about this guy. You know, get the down." Her grandma stares at her, clearly not knowing what 'getting the low down' means. Santana chuckles. "As in get see if I can get some more information.

"Oh! Of course, honey. Just remember, be careful and please, only fly at night now. Me and your abuelo don't want anything to slip up and cause you harm."

Santana nods and pushes her palms to the sofa cushions to help stand up. She heads on over to her grandma and kisses her on the forehead. "I will, abuela."

"But no going today to see Holly. It's too risky with the news coming out. Unless you're planning on driving, of course."

"I don't have a car."

Her grandma smiles, knowing that's the case and reaches up to grab her hand between her own, patting the back lightly. "Then leave it a few days, mija. Holly will still be waiting for you on Friday."

"Yes, abuela," Santana sighs and rolls her eyes when her back is turned, then trudges up the stairs with her bag in hand.

* * *

For the past three years, Santana's been working at this cute little cafe a few blocks away from her house. It's quaint, and has a little 1950's theme to it, but she likes it and the pay is pretty good, so she doesn't mind all that much. Plus, it gives her something to get out of the house for. Something which _doesn't _include throwing a five ton piece of scrap metal across an abandoned airstrip.

She doesn't work all nights, it's just the odd one here and there and whenever she gets a text from her boss asking her to cover a shift, she does that too; but she's here tonight. The best part about having a small little business to work – and being a nerd with no life which means she can work at the drop of a hat – is that she can form personal relationships with the employers and colleagues and soon worm her way around the rota. Which is how she came to work tonight on the late shift.

Late shifts are pretty relaxing. The only customers that come in are the insomniacs that can't sleep – the ones that Santana are pretty sure don't need coffee but still order one and sip on it with wide eyes and rocking bodies – the few slightly drunk underage teenagers who order cups of teas and pieces of toast, and then the few people who either just want somewhere to be that isn't in the city in their one bedroomed flat in Manhattan, or the people who just put their kids to sleep and leave their other halves to watch over them whilst they take a break. So it's pretty nice. All the customers are relatively quiet and smile and slip a few dollars into the tip jar as Santana hands over their coffee's with extra foam, and it's just a chilled time to work.

But it also leaves Santana with the responsibility to lock up, which isn't bad, but it isn't good. See, the part of town this cafe is in, isn't exactly the best of places. It's no Harlem or Washington Heights, but it's still somewhere that a normal eighteen year old girl probably shouldn't walk the streets alone at night at.

Santana's never been a _normal _girl though, has she?

Sliding the key out the lock and jiggling the handle to make sure the door's locked, Santana steps away and pulls down the metal bindings to protect the windows. A few windows of a few business' have been smashed over the past few years, and luckily the cafe hasn't but her boss likes to take precautions, and so she just does as she's told. It's not that big of a deal and to a regular girl it might get a bit annoying but the whole super strength thing helps her in that situation so _whatever._

Another thing is that due to her powers and how sensitive and accurate they are, Santana can basically hear someone breathing or even moving from a mile away when it's this time of night. So if anyone thinks they can jump her, she just turns around and heads the other way or creeps the crap out of them by disappearing into the night and hiding beyond the clouds. That's one of her favorites, she has to admit, and so she guesses her powers aren't _that _bad.

And it just so happens that this is one of the times where her powers are _really _fucking useful.

She's zipping up the front of her hoodie when she hears it. It's small, and barely even there really but she hears it none-the-less. A breath, around forty yards away from her. It's shallow and shaky like the person behind it is nervous and Santana pauses in her step, noticing the other small sounds like a heartbeat and the crunch of the gravel beneath a light footstep. She takes in a deep inhale, trying to figure out if it's someone she knows but all she smells is a mix of different scents from old clothing to men's cologne.

Her whole body tenses at the realization that she doesn't know who it is. But there's one thing she does know, and thats if she's going to get away from this person, she needs to keep moving. So she begins to walk again, a little faster until the footsteps following her become faster too.

And that's when it hits her.

Someone's following her. And it could just possibly be that someone that knows she's alive somewhere in America.

_Shit._

"Santana!"

That's all it takes for a wave of relief to wash over her. She lets her shoulders slump, feet slowing to a halt as the sound wave flows through her ears and mind and registers. But wait... Why is Brittany here?

Santana turns, warily, narrowing her eyes and eyes up the blonde slowly jogging towards her. "Uh, Brittany?"

Brittany stops a few steps in front of her, golden bangs hanging over her face and cheeks flushed with a light pink. She's wearing racing green sweatpants, rolled over once and hanging low at the hips and a tight black v neck top, and Santana, swear to God, almost swallows her tongue at the sight. Looking that good should actually be an illegality, seriously, it's just not fair to be that damn gorgeous in such a casual outfit.

"Hey. What are you doing here?" The blonde asks, a little breathless. Her eyes are bright and sparkling and Santana almost forgets to answer the question. But she doesn't, and shakes her head to make sure she doesn't keep staring.

"Erm, I work at _Sandy's Cafe..." _she replies, a little confused as to why Brittany's here. There's only a theater and a 7-11 and Santana just can't seem to imagine the girl in a cashier's uniform. "What are you doing here?"

Brittany thumbs over her shoulder towards the theater. "I just got a part time job at the theater."

"Oh?" Santana tries not to sound excited by the news, but she can't help it. Fifteen years of nothing and suddenly they're talking like they're friends. Not to mention they now work a few stores down from each other, which isn't going to be a bad thing. "Do you work up front or...?"

"No," Brittany brushes back a piece of her hair and tucks it behind her ear. Santana wills herself not to do that to the other piece of the opposite side. That's just a little too intimate and she's not sure the blonde girl would take too kindly to her touching her yet. Even if Brittany's already done it to her like, twice. "It's nothing big. I just choreograph a few of the younger kid's dances and do a bit of back up when necessary."

Santana smiles. "That sounds awesome. But you really shouldn't be walking around this place on your own at this time of night, Brittany," she steps a little closer when she spots a hooded figure crossing the street ahead. "It's kind of dangerous."

"I can look out for myself," Brittany arches a brow and says it playfully, but there's something in her tone that's serious and Santana almost feels bad for saying that. "And I could say the same to you."

"I can look out for myself," she chuckles.

"Then we're both share something."

Judging by her nod, it would seem Santana agrees with the statement; yet there's this growing urge inside of her to say that _no, _she actually _can _look out for herself considering she could pretty much kick The Hulk's ass with her super powers, but she knows she can't. And so she just gives in and smiles back at the blonde girl, shoving her hands into her pants pockets and rocks forward awkwardly.

"So I saw you haul that dodge ball at Robin earlier," Brittany says after a long moment, an amused expression on her face.

Santana's jaw falls slack and she widens her eyes. _Shit, _is Brittany friends with Robin? "Oh, yeah, I– No, I didn't mean–" she swallows thickly. "I didn't mean to."

"It doesn't matter to me whether you did or not," the blonde girl says, still smiling. "I thought it was pretty kick ass."

Shocked and curious, Santana looks up through her lashes and arches a brow. "You do?"

"Well yeah. Robin's had it coming for a while. Just glad someone finally did something about it."

For some reason it feels like Brittany's complimenting her, and even though she isn't it's kind of making heat spread across her face. Santana ducks her head just to make sure she doesn't show the faint blush she thinks is creeping along her cheeks before replying, "I still didn't mean to, though."

"Although," Brittany takes a step closer and Santana takes a step back on instinct, nearly tripping up the curb in the process. "You didn't look like you even tried when you threw it, and yet it was definitely one of the most powerful throws I've ever seen anyone do."

Santana gulps. Is Brittany getting at something here? But before she can open her mouth to ask just that, an engine roars from down the street and a car turns their way, pulling up to a stop beside Brittany as the window winds down.

_Great. _Fucking _Jesse _is here to pick her up.

Jesse St. James. Boyfriend of Brittany Pierce and quite possibly the biggest asshole to ever walk the Earth. And that includes freaking Hitler. But at least with Hitler he _thought _he was doing something good. Jesse's just a massive douche bag, is a bad person and does the things he does _despite _knowing how fucking awful and hurtful his actions are. Santana's never seen him do one good fucking thing to anyone, and even though he seems to be smiling a lot, it's actually just a devious little smirk that Santana just wants to burn off with a blink of his eye.

Sure, you could say that Santana hates him because he's dating Brittany and has been for way too long, but truthfully, he's just a slimy sack of shit. And she's not the only one to think so. On many occasions she's watched him parade around school in that stupid leather jacket with his arm slung over some random girl's shoulder, smirking 'cause he knows even if he kissed the girl right then and there, no-one would tell Brittany 'cause somehow he _still _manages to be the most popular guy in school and pretty much everyone's scared shitless of him. If they

It fucking irks Santana, like _really _fucking irks her. Possibly more than Puckerman pisses her off, or even Karofsky, but she guesses that Jesse must have _some _type of redeeming quality because Brittany wouldn't be dating him for no reason.

That doesn't change anything though. Santana still hates him and he still hates Santana. It's not the whole nerd vs. popular guy thing, it's a long running vendetta that's going on since elementary school where Jesse broke her crayons in half and covered her skirt in super glue. Even as a kid he was a class A asshole and it seems nothing's changed.

"Jesse's here," she monotones, glaring at the black mustang with the red stripes down the middle. What the fuck does he think he is? A singular version of the fucking A team? _Douche bag._

"Oh, yeah. Right, well," Santana can't help but hear the disappointment in the blonde's voice. "I would offer you a lift but I know you and Jesse aren't exactly on the best of terms..." She leaves the rest up to interpretation and Santana shakes her head but then nods, unsure whether to agree to that statement or disagree because it's an understatement.

"That's fine. I need the exercise anyway," she replies, trying a smile that she knows doesn't reach her eyes.

But Brittany eyes her up and down, blue orbs doing a long trail of her body from head to foot until she reaches brown eyes. "No... You really don't."

Santana gulps. Was Brittany just checking her out? "Well, yeah, thank you but I do," she says, trying to push away that weird fluttering feeling inside her stomach. Brittany just nods and turns away, opening the door to Jesse's car and placing a foot inside. "I'll see you when I see you."

The blonde climbs into the car, pausing as she hears the words and twists her head to eye Santana for a moment, seeming as if she's about to say something. But then she flashes a grin and licks her lips, murmuring a quick, "Bye, Santana," before reaching for the door handle and shutting it; and Santana can't help but feel curious as to why Brittany felt the need for a pause.

But she doesn't concentrate on it too much.

Just steps into the middle of the road to watch as the car drives away.

* * *

Another day at school. Another day of dodging the cheer bitches that laugh at her, the asshole jocks that shove her into lockers and the slushies that seep down the back of her collar and refuse to come out, even with the strongest fabric cleaner around.

It's just _great _fun being at the bottom of the social pile.

Santana clutches her books close to her chest as she heads for her locker. It's sixth period, which means Advanced Chemistry and because her mind has been so preoccupied with thoughts of mutant's coming out, the fact that she's got to train at the dead of night now as well as finding abandoned warehouses and cabins that are like, in freaking _Alaska _to avoid the suspicions that may be surrounding her, and of course, the gorgeous blonde that lives next door, she forgot to pick up her textbook this morning. Which means another trip to her locker and another chance for a cherry icy facial.

_Wonderful._

She arrives at her locker in the clear, quickly twisting in her combo and swinging the door open. All her books are there, which is a good start because a few weeks ago she found her locker empty and a small fire in a trash can underneath the bleachers, and there's nothing out the ordinary. She quickly finds and picks out her AC paperback, shoving in her spare textbooks and grabs the correct one before closing the door and hastily making her way towards her class.

This is usually the prime time for slushies and so she moves quickly, darting between students that don't see her and turning round the corners she needs to. But as she heads down one particular hallway, she hears the voice of Dave Karofsky and the tell tale signs of an icy drink slurping around in the cup.

_Fucking great. _She just bought this damn t-shirt as well.

It's inevitable and the only way she could avoid it would be to switch on the superhero shit and jerk out the way, but then people would know and so she's just got to take one for her own one manned team. So, bowing her head, she continues to walk towards Karofsky, hearing her grandma's words repeat in her mind about keeping her status on the down low and convinces herself that this is for the best, all the while preparing herself for one of the most uncomfortable sensations to smack her in the face.

Except it never comes.

Cracking open one eye due to hearing to an all too familiar heartbeat, Santana takes a peek at the scene in front of her and finds Karofsky and another jock standing around two meters away, slushy in hand and a faltering smirk on his face. There's someone standing in front of him, blocking his path and a small smile tugs at the edges of Santana's lips as she recognizes who it is.

"Why do you feel the need to demean everyone who doesn't wear a Cheerios uniform or a Letterman jacket, Dave?"

Santana raises her eyebrows. She's never heard Brittany like this, and she has to admit, she doesn't like it. Anger just doesn't really suit Brittany. She's all sweet and sugar and everything beautiful and innocent in the world and when she's standing there with crossed arms and a low, monotonous tone that's verging on the edge of pissed off, Santana realizes how much negative emotion like anger just doesn't suit the girl.

But still, she can't deny it's kind of hot.

Karofsky scowls, reaching up to push Brittany out the way with his free hand. "Get out the way Barbie, this has nothing to do with you."

"No, this has _everything _to do with me," the blonde retorts, stepping back and nearly running into Santana.

The bulky boy turns to his friend, upper lip curling into a slight snarl and a shrug on his shoulders. It seems as if he's too dumb to even understand what Brittany wants to say and Santana has to suck in her lips and press a fist to her mouth to keep the laughter in. This is just _too _funny.

"What?" He grunts, attempting to step around Brittany. But she's too fast and mirrors his move, blocking him again. "Get out the way, Goldilocks!"

Brittany lifts her chin, triumphantly. "I'm the Senior Class President, so I represent the entire study body at this school. It's my job and part of my reign to make sure bullying stops and that the bullies are stopped. Which means I could easily have you kicked off the football squad."

Karofsky narrows his eyes at her, clearly taking in the threat. "You can't do that."

"Well, _I _can't," Brittany agrees, turning to Santana and shooting her a quick wink. "But Coach Sue can and she will _happily _if I ask her to_."_

It seems that's what gets the boy, because he pauses to look at his friend – who's eyes are wide with fear – before punching his fist in the air and grunting like a pig. Santana smirks at him, cocking her eyebrow slightly as he turns around, shouts "_fuck this" _and storms off with his tail between his legs. As soon as he rounds the corner, Santana breathes a sigh of relief and nudges her glasses further up her nose, realizing she and Brittany aren't the only ones around and finds several curious faces staring at her. She has to admit, she doesn't quite know what happened there either, so they're all in the same boat.

"Brittany," Santana breathes, hands shaking a little bit. She tucks them further under her arms, keeping her books close as the nerves set in. Outside of school it's not so bad talking to Brittany, but she feels like she's constantly being judged whenever she attempts to talk to the girl in school. "Why did you–" she ducks her head when a whisper of "_why did Brittany help that geek?" _flows to her ears from someone around her.

"I mean–thank you," she lands on in the end, glancing up through her lashes, anxiously. "You didn't have to do that."

"I know," the blonde nods and offers a small smile that makes her eyes brighten by like, a million shades. "But you did something for me so now we're even."

There's many muttering's from the students around them after Brittany says that, and even more when the girl reaches over and brushes back a piece of Santana's hair. It almost makes Santana's heart stop beating because _holy crap, _Brittany Pierce just touched her in front of the whole corridor and now everyone will suspect that they've had previous conversations. Obviously they don't know about their little meeting last night outside work, but it makes heat creep onto her cheeks to think that they _might _know, or at least suspect something.

She's not used to being in the limelight like this.

And no doubt there will be some stupid rumor in _The Muckracker_ tomorrow and usually she'd be excited – 'cause hello? Rumors are bad but when they're involving Brittany? _Yes please! _– but right now is not the time to have the limelight on her. What if she slips up and accidentally shoots a heat ray out her eyes and her secret is revealed?

(Not that she can with these stupid glasses on, but she's just considering the possibilities.)

She shakes her head and ducks it again, unsure of what to do now. Brittany pulls back her hand and drops it to her bicep, squeezing gently to capture her attention once more.

"Just give me a shout if he gives you any more hassle," Brittany says, flashing a grin before patting Santana's arm and walking away; a few of her friends flanking her sides as soon as she gets a good few meters away.

Santana just blinks, wondering if she just imagined what just happened before realizing she's standing there like an idiot and decides to head to class.

It's the first time she's late for class in three years.

* * *

**Any thoughts?**


	3. Part Three: The First Appearance

**Title: **A Whole New World (With You) [Part Three]  
**Rating: **R  
**Length: **5900

**Notes: **Okay, last of the three updates. Hopefully you'll have a feel of the direction this fic is heading and decide whether you want to read on or not! Thanks anyway!

* * *

Santana gets home from school and slumps down on the sofa, head aching and eyes sore. She brings the back of her hands up to try and remove some of the stinging at her eyes, but just succeeds in knocking off her glasses and making her head ache even more.

Since this afternoon and the whole Brittany slash Karofsky slash slushie incident in the hallway earlier, Santana's been somewhat off point and has managed to trip over a slightly raised pavement slab, get her ear chewed off for forgetting her assignment in Calculus and nearly get hit by a freaking car. And it's really irritating because she doesn't remember ever being so mind-muddled before. It's like Brittany's presence has seeped into her mind and she just can't do anything to get the girl off it. Which is pretty weird because she's known and loved the girl for fifteen years, and before Brittany even acknowledged her presence, Santana thought her crush was constantly on her mind. But apparently not and so if she thought she was screwed before? She was wrong.

Footsteps pad in from the kitchen, and Santana squeezes her eyes shut, not really wanting to explain her foul mood to her grandma. But it seems her grandma has always had a shitty mood detector because instead of speaking, she carefully takes the seat next to her and runs a cool palm over her forehead.

"Rough day, mija?"

Santana tries smiles and leans forward, the hand slipping off as she reaches up to remove her glasses from her nose. "Yeah, abuela," she agrees. "Pretty rough day."

"Well maybe this will cheer you up," her abuela says and stands, brushing down the front of her skirt. "Holly called for you and would like to see you tonight."

It works, because Santana perks up instantly. Ever since her first meeting with Holly at the tender age of seven, she's loved the woman. Holly's like the big sister she's never had and if she could, she'd probably spend the majority of her time with her. But no-one ever gets what they want and Santana knows her priorities lie with her grandparents. They're not getting any younger and day by day her grandfather becomes more fragile. He is 86 after all, and her grandma is turning 78 this year; and sure, they're not incapable of doing things for themselves but Santana has to take responsibility now for the things that only she can do. Like unblock the toilet – as gross as it is – and take the leaves out the gutter. Her grandparents can't climb up ladders and if they do there's a risk that they'll like, shatter their pelvis' or something so she saves them the trouble and does it herself. With her super powers as help of course.

So when she hears that Holly's called and asked to see her, it's like all her Christmas' have come at once because her grandma has _never _stopped her from visiting the woman and so that means–

"I can go see her?" Santana asks, unable to hide the excitement in her voice.

Her grandma turns to her with a smile, then rolls her eyes and nods. "Yes, mija. But if you're going to fly then I insist you go after sunset. We can't be–"

"Too careful, I know abuela," Santana cuts in, knowing this little lecture. "So can I go after dinner?"

"Yes, Santana."

Santana practically jumps at on her grandmother, throwing her arms around her fragile frame and embracing her in a tight hug. It's only when her grandma taps her shoulder and wriggles that she realizes it's a bit _too _hard and pulls back, an apologetic smile already on her face.

"Now go and do your homework, otherwise I might have to change my mind."

Nodding, Santana presses a kiss to a wrinkled forehead and literally glides upstairs.

* * *

She waits until the darkness covers the sky to head over to Staten Island. The moon isn't full, so she doesn't have to worry about a superhero's version of _E.T_going on, and it only takes a few minutes to get over there.

It's pretty awesome having super powers.

Holly's house comes into view, and Santana begins her descent, bracing her palms down to face the ground as she switches into hover mode and moves downwards until the balls of her feet touch crunch against the gravel. When she's standing firmly upright on the driveway, she jogs up the stairs and heads for the front door; pressing the bell as soon as she gets there. It only takes a few moments and then Holly's there, holding open the door and grinning widely as her eyes land on Santana, and Santana can't help but feel her heart clench a little; she's missed this woman.

"Hey, chica!" Holly greets, dropping the hand from the door and opening her arms.

Santana instantly steps into them, hugging the older woman and murmuring, "Hey," into her collarbone.

"It's been such a long time," Holly pulls out the embrace but holds onto tanned biceps, her eyes roaming up and down Santana's body. "And look at you, hot stuff! All grown up!"

"You saw me like, ten months ago," Santana replies, amused at the woman's reaction but still a little flattered.

"And that's ten months too long!"

Santana smiles and bounces her head upon her neck; she can't argue with the statement. Holly drops her hands and steps aside, ushering Santana into her house and winking at the butler who glides past with a smirk on his face, and Santana's jaw drops as soon as her eyes do a quick glance of the house. Or should she say mansion.

It's _huge. _Not huge as in _oh that's a big house_, huge, but as in the, _Holly must be related to the member of a royal family to have a house this big, _huge. And every time Santana steps into this place, it still always manages to surprise her. Once, she actually came in and the stairs had transformed into a _slide _since apparently Holly got bored of walking down them and felt a little fun was in order for her and her servants. Even though she calls her servants 'live in friends' because she's so damn friendly and kind to them that's basically what they are.

The strange thing about this house though, is despite the large Greek-esque columns outside the house, and the impressive mile long driveway leading up to it, Santana doesn't actually have a clue where Holly the money for it came from. She's pretty sure the woman isn't actually related to the member of the royal family, nor is she married to Chris Martin or a celebrity of a similar stature, but her money always seems to be _endless. _And yeah, Santana's always suspected the wealth has come from Holly's job, because there isn't a huge industry for engineering designers in the Superhero field, but there's always been this inkling that there's something more to the money. Something secretive.

It's not a secret that years ago Holly used to work for the science team in the Secret Service either, but surely that wouldn't mean she has money flying out of her ears? Santana doesn't know. But she doesn't ask; fearing it might be prying and leaves it down to the fact that if Holly wanted to tell her how in the hell she's so damn rich, she would.

Holly leads them through the house, passing the too-large living room and kitchen, and heads towards the study, and Santana gets this slight jolt of fear, knowing that whatever Holly called her here for is pretty serious business. That's all the study is ever used for, nowadays: business.

"So," Santana says as she takes a seat in front of the desk and kicks her feet up onto it. "What's going on?"

Holly sits down and mirrors Santana's position. "Do you know anything about a guy called Russel Fabray?"

Pulling her eyebrows together, Santana does a quick flick through her memories but finds nothing. "Nope... Should I?"

Holly looks at her for a moment, then stands and heads over to the bar where she grabs two glasses; filling one up with a clear liquid and ice, and the other with orange juice. "Not necessarily."

Santana leans forward. "Is he a danger?"

"Not at the moment, no," the older woman heads back over and hands her the orange juice.

Santana brings the cup to her lip and takes a sip, before placing it on a coaster on the desk and switching her mind into serious mode. There's something in Holly's voice that's making her feel uneasy and so paying the utmost attention would be good right now. "What do you mean?"

"Russel works for a company called Vengeance Corporation, and they dabble into the super-human side of things," Holly explains. "He has for a while but it's not until recently that he's come into... bigger things, and therefore, come to my attention."

"Bigger things?"

"Yeah," Holly nods and sips her drink – straight vodka, Santana notes – before wincing slightly. "Vengeance Corp. basically do the same thing as I do, except they're not known for doing it for the good guys like I am."

Santana almost scoffs. There's _actually _good guys and bad guys in the super-human world? She thought that was comic book stuff. "How do they do anything differently? I mean, you've basically trained me to fit into the human world? Is there a way to do that badly?"

"There is, and Fabray manages to do it."

She squints, unsure if she wants to know more. "What does he do?"

Holly licks her lips and leans forward, her eyes hardening and features tightening. Whatever this Russel guy does, clearly isn't good. Santana gulps. "Fabray trains mutants, like I do, but he trains them to be an enhanced version of themselves," the woman says and slides her glass across the desk until it stops in front of Santana. "Take a sip, you might wanna when you hear this news."

Santana feels her lip quirk but doesn't do it. She doesn't really feel up to it. "Russel is known for taking mutants and putting them in a lab to poke, prod and steal their DNA to see if he can alter them."

"Isn't that illegal?"

Holly chuckles. "Honey, the law doesn't exactly include people who come from out of this world. And there's only around a few hundred people in the entire universe who even know that mutants or mutant involved businesses exist. But anyway, Russel used to lure mutants to his lair or whatever so he could attempt to alter their DNA, but after years of trying he found it just wasn't possible."

Santanaslumps back into the chair, throwing her hair back against the headrest. "So what does this have to do with me?" She asks, reaching up and nudging her glasses over in order to pinch the bridge of her nose.

"You know that guy who came out and said he has powers?"

"Yeah."

"That was Russel Fabray."

Santana snaps her head forward and stares at Holly with wide eyes, unable to hide the shock she feels. It was only a few days ago that she saw the guy on the news and didn't think anything of him. She should have though. "_That _was him?"

Holly leans forward and clasps her hands together, resting them upon the desk. "Yes, and he's trying to get more mutants to show themselves because since the death of your parents" – Santana winces –"it hasn't exactly been a priority to show the world their powers."

"Does Russel even have any powers?"

"No, that's the thing," Holly breathes in and out heavily, frustration etching over her face. "I don't get what his angle is," she says, running a hand through her hair and standing. "He doesn't have any powers and yet he's saying he does so mutants to come to him. But I don't know what for."

Santana pulls her brows together. "Why don't you just tell people that he doesn't have powers? That it's a trick to get them to go to him?"

Holly twists her head to peer over her shoulder at Santana. "I can't just go to the news station and announce that, Santana," she says, her voice harder than usual. "Being a super-human isn't typical in this world and I have to protect my clients. If I go and say anything it'll put you and my other guy in danger and I'm not going to do that."

Santana should be thankful. She should be because Holly's just doing her a favor but there's that thing the back of her mind, telling her that whilst it may keep her and Holly's other client safe; that means there's going to be a whole other group of mutants who _won't _be safe from Russel's grasp. They won't know any better and will go straight to Fabray and his hidden plans.

Wait... did Holly just say she has another client? Like her?

"You have another mutant as a client?"

Holly smiles and nods. "He's new, and his power is weak and underdeveloped," she explains but then claps her hands together. "But that's all I can tell you. The whole doctor/patient confidentiality thing is stopping me from telling you more."

Suspicion pulses through Santana's veins and she narrows her eyes; suddenly Holly has a new client? At the same time this Russel guy comes out? That's a bit strange. But she shakes it off figuring that if Holly even _thought_that her other client had anything to do with Fabray, she wouldn't have taken the guy on.

Shaking her head, she smiles and says, "The same goes for me too, yeah?"

Holly grins and rounds the desk, perching on the edge of it before patting Santana's bicep. "The same goes for you," she admits then tilts her head to the side and shrugs. "Beside, you're my little sister, Lopez. Number one priority."

Santana grins. There's no doubt in her mind that she can trust Holly, and right now, that's all she needs to know.

* * *

She's at the library a week later, books spread across the width of the table and laptop open and on to her left. The good thing about the library, is that barely any of the popular kids – the ones who are assholes, which are actually the majority of them (Brittany aside of course) – would even think about coming here. They probably don't even know that this place exists which means it's like the safe camp for all nerds, geeks and dorks; Santana included.

It also means that Santana has been able to do a few hours research on without any interruptions. That's another bonus to being a nerd; it's like the rules and regulations that whenever in deep thought or study, no nerd shall disturb another nerd. Lame, but it works, and now Santana's mind is full of around thirty different mutants, all armed with a variety of powers.

The thing is–_Well, _the thing she's researched and found is that she seems to be the _only one_of her kind to have more than one power. All other mutants have a specific power, just like they do in X-Men and yet Santana's living proof that it's possible to have more than one. On one hand, she thinks, it's a good thing because as long as she stays out the limelight, no-one will ever find out and so that Fabray guy will never find out that having more than one power is actually possible. And maybe that will lead to him stopping whatever the hell he's doing.

But on the other hand it's not necessary a good thing because surely that puts her in more danger? Because if anyone _were _to find out about her multiple powers, Russel would find her, capture her and lock up in a lab for the rest of her life to do whatever he willed with her powers. And there'd be no-one that could save her because the Police, nor the Army, even freaking _know _about the super-human side to life.

To be honest, she finds the whole situation pretty odd because in the past week there's been eighteen mutants to come out and reveal their powers. There was that teenager from Boston who could move small objects with his mind on Monday. There was that little girl, no more than 8, in Kansas who could click her thumb and create fire on Wednesday. There was even that ice boy from Wyoming and that damn baby in San Diego who could turn freaking _invisible_ on Thursday. All of them had one power. _One _power each and now Santana's lost as to what to do.

Admittedly, after learning about Russel Fabray, she was considering _possibly _announcing that she had a power, just to see how everyone would react; but now after all this research that cat has jumped back into the bag and tied itself up. It's just so all of a sudden; she means, one day there's no-one in the world who has a power, and now she has the option to freaking surround herself with people who are similar to her.

There's just something so oddly suspicious about it.

Yet there's nothing she can do.

She leans back in the chair and breathes out a defeated sigh. It's like she needs to do something and she doesn't know what. So she guesses she'll just sit back and wait to see if any multiple powered super-humans reveal themselves.

Maybe then she'll consider announcing her own powers.

* * *

Santana goes to work that night on the late shift. This time, she wasn't actually scheduled on the rota but her colleague Terri called in and said her husband was sick, and apparently a thirty five year old man can't look after himself so she took the night off to play nurse.

_(Ugh, _Santana so doesn't want to imagine that woman in a nurse outfit, especially because she's seen that thing without make up. It's just disturbing.)

Although, there is a bonus to working tonight, and that's just it gives Santana something else to focus on. Recently she's been freaking out about the whole super-human thing and it's just been playing on her mind so much that in the past week, she's gone training four times, destroyed three broken down heavy vehicles and completely trashed the insides of four abandoned warehouses. It's the only way she's been able to get out her emotions, and even then it's not helping all that much.

There's still a lot of fear inside of her, and she just can't seem to get it out.

Her shift goes quicker than usual, and when the last customer leaves at 11.20pm, she decides to close up shop and head home. It's pretty easy to clear up when no-one's around, because then she gets to use her powers and do everything five times as fast as she would be able to usually. The security cameras obviously need to be switched off, but that doesn't matter too much. If her boss asks then she can just say there was a power cut.

Anyway, she finishes cleaning and follows the closing up rota within four and a half minutes, and is out the door by 11:30pm. The night is dark, and the moon is barely even peeking over the clouds which just makes everything that little darker. To be honest, it's a pretty creepy night but she doesn't care too much. Night times stopped scaring her when she was like, eight and accidentally watched Texas Chainsaw Massacre and found out that murderers attacked in day time, too; so if she was going to be killed, it would happen at any point in the day. Not necessarily just the night.

Closing the door and locking up, she shoves the key in her pocket and fishes out her phone. Her grandma likes to know when she's walking back, and it's become routine so her hands automatically start typing out the text whilst her mind is elsewhere.

Santana's halfway through pressing send when she hears it. It's small, but super-human hearing amplifies everything and she freezes. Someone's in trouble. There's a voice. Small, but it's definitely there. She tilts her head to the side and perks her ear, shutting her eyes to zone in completely to the sound.

"_No, thank you. I just want to go home. Excuse me."_

The breath catches in her throat when the voice replays through her mind. She knows that voice. All too well. It plays through her mind for the majority of the day and when it speaks to her, Santana's stomach does these weird little flip flops and this strange warmth spreads within her. Because that voice? That voice belongs to Brittany. And Santana's pretty sure her heart just stopped because if it's Brittany that means the blonde girl's in trouble.

"_Oh, no, darlin'. You ain't goin' anywhere."_A man's voice.

"_Look, I don't want any trouble. Can you just let me past?"_

A pause. "_What do you say, Jack?" _Another voice says. There's two men. "_Shall we let this pretty young thang go? Or keep her for a bit of fun?"_

Santana grits her teeth and lets out a low snarl, whipping her head from side to side to try and pinpoint where the voices are coming from. Fear simmers beneath her skin and her breathing becomes more ragged. She can't find Brittany. She can't fucking find her and these fucking voices in her head are blocking her ability to do it and if she doesn't find her soon she doesn't know what's going to happen. To her or Brittany.

"_No. I like the look of her," _a deep voice says. A different voice. That's three. "_I mean, where do you see legs like that nowadays?"_

Bile rises in the back of Santana's throat as she listens to Brittany's heart pick up it's pace. That's how she can find her. Follow the heart beat. It's obvious. The louder the beat, the closer Santana is to Brittany. She narrows her eyes, spinning on the spot and then spots the theater. Brittany said she worked there. That would make sense, right? For these men to approach Brittany there?

Santana doesn't know. But she fucking hopes so.

Kicking her brain and body into action, she finds the ability to move and darts over towards the theater in a split second, finding an alley running just along the side. It's cliché, but this is New York we're talking about. New York is renound for alley rapes and murders and by the sound of these thugs, they don't share a brain cell between the three of them so to them an alley would be unique.

And the heartbeat in her mind is loud and clear which means Brittany must be here. She must be. Or at least near.

Santana presses her back against the cold brick of the wall, sucking in a deep breath and readies herself to peer around the side. She doesn't know what to do, but she needs to do something. Fucking _anything. _She'll never forgive herself if these thugs even _touch _Brittany. Never.

A low chuckle. "_True. And not to mention that ass. You know, boys, I think we're gon' have a lot of fun with this one."_

That's what snaps her into action. Twisting her head to the right, she finds a fire escape leading outside one of the shops. Her body makes the decision before her mind can, and before she knows it, she's scaling the fire escape, jumping and grabbing onto the metal, propelling her body upwards with her muscles and landing precisely on the rail at the very top. There's a good drop towards the pavement, and if she had vertigo, Santana would be severely screwed right now.

She quickly hops down onto the roof and presses her hand to the ground, listening to Brittany's heart beat and using it as a GPS. It's only a second before she finds the alley again, and she peers over the side to take in the positions of Brittany and the thugs.

The alley's not that long, but it's a dead end and Brittany's only a few steps away from the brick wall. Just as Santana suspected though, there's three men; two leaning casually against the wall and one standing in the center. Brittany's facing the one in the middle, but glancing between the other two men nervously and her heart's pounding a mile a minute. Santana can hear the girl lick her lips as the men look at each other with smirks – that Santana is _so _going to enjoy smacking off – but she doesn't know what to do in this situation.

On one hand, she's got herself to consider. She has super powers, and she's a mutant. If anyone caught her on camera she wouldn't be able to get out of it and then her secret would be revealed. Her life would change forever and even if she flew down and kicked the crap out of these guys, there's no promising that she can save Brittany. She's eighteen. She's only been training for a few years and even then her powers aren't as powerful as they can be. These are fully grown men and whilst they may be dumber than a bag of wet hair, Santana can see their muscles rippling beneath their shirts from up here. If one grabs a hold of her, she can fight him but her attention will be diverted from Brittany and one could get to the blonde girl.

_Crap. _This is why she isn't a freaking superhero. This shit is _complicated._

"_Please, can you just let me go?" _It's Brittany, and her voice is weakening with fear. "_I just want to go home."_

"_No, baby. Stay here and talk for a while."_

Brittany's breath hitches. "_I don't want to talk about anything," _she says, and her voice is a little stronger. Boldly, she moves forward and twists, trying to slide through the gap between the men. "_Now excuse me–"_

The anger Santana felt boiling in her stomach explodes when she watches one of the guys leaning against the wall push Brittany's bicep. Her fists curl, nails biting into her skin and she looks around the rooftops as if there's going to be someone to help her. But they won't. She's standing on top of a fucking _roof, _peering into an alley at near midnight. Why the hell would anyone be up here?

"_Well..." _the man in the center steps forward, crossing his arms over his chest. "_If you don't wanna talk I'm sure there's other things you can do."_

It's said in such a suggestive manner that Santana snaps. The concern of whether or not someone sees her seeps straight out her mind and the decision is made. She braces herself, crouching down and prepares herself to drop down; but then panic leaks into her body and she pauses. How can she hide herself? From Brittany? _Fuck the men, _she thinks. They can see her all she likes. But there's no hiding from Brittany.

"_No. Now please, I just want to go home."_

Moving quickly, Santana rips her glasses off her face and tugs the band out her hair. Her hair flows freely over her shoulders and she shrugs out her coat and piles everything together before making her move.

With the precision and agility of a ninja, Santana hops down onto one of the six lights illuminating the alley. She knows she has to hide from Brittany, and so she needs to take out the lights; then it'll be pitch black and she can be hidden. Not to mention it'll give her a slight advantage when fists come hurling her way. In the dark, humans can't see. But mutants? _Yeah, _they can.

Sucking in a breath, Santana closes her eyes and feels the beginning of a sting form behind them. She waits until it's the appropriate power and then snaps them open, aiming straight for each of the six lights and quickly firing heat rays out so the sound of glass shattering, gasps and a small scream echoes down the alley, and the darkness covers over Brittany and the men.

Another panicked heartbeat joins in. "_Who's there?"_

Another panicked voice, too. "_Show yourself."_

Santana smirks. It's time to move. _Now._

She doesn't think she's ever felt such a rush of adrenaline before as she moves. Jumping from her position, she lands on the man in the center of the alley and brings her fist down on his head. He instantly falls to the ground unconscious, and Santana whips her head around and darts towards another of the thugs, grabbing the back of his neck and lifting her knee at the same time, colliding them with a strength she knows will knock the guy out. There's a slight crunch and she winces, knowing that's the sound of the guy's nose cracking on her kneecap. She needs to practice controlling her strength.

Santana lets her hand fall away from the broken nosed thug and hears him drop to the ground. She spins on her heel, finding the last man and wonders how she's going to get around him. The last one is going to be the trickiest because he knows something's happening; and so Santana has to be tactful about this one.

Sliding to the right, she crouches and quickly goes for his legs, fingers curling around his ankles and tugging until the guy falls backwards and smacks his head on the concrete. He groans, murmurs something incoherent and rude, then begins to stand again. And Santana panics. She panics because she thought that fall would knock the guy out, but it hasn't and now he's on his feet and reaching into his pocket to grab at something. Without even thinking, Santana balls her fists and throws it forward; where it hits the man with such a strength that he flies backwards and into a pile of black rubbish bags.

The rush of blood through her veins calms the second she knows the last of the men is out cold, and she slowly rises to her feet, straightening her back and turning slowly to find Brittany.

And she's there, standing in the center of the alley with the most terrified expression on her face. Her eyes are wide, and her fingers are trembling where they clutch the hem of her shirt. Her heart beat is so fast that Santana's not even sure it's a damn pulse and Santana's heart sinks at the realization that now, Brittany's scared of _her._

"Who-who are you?" Brittany stammers out.

Santana moves to step forward, but then her eyes dart up and she sees one of the lights flickering over Brittany. _Shit. _She didn't get that one. Finding herself in a spot of darkness, so Brittany can't recognize her, Santana stays put and breathes out, steadily.

"I'm not here to hurt you," she says, softly.

But Brittany doesn't buy it. The blonde licks her lips, eyes glancing around the alley to find the men and all Santana wants to do is reach out and hug the girl; reassure her that everything's okay now because she's here. But she can't. And it sucks.

"Where a-are they?" Brittany continues, knuckles pushing against her skin until the bone is visible. She's terrified. "Where are the-the men?"

Santana's mouth opens to explain that yeah, she kicked their ass and honestly? Is kind of proud of it. But then she hears something she wishes she never had, and her entire body stills. There's a small click, and she twists just in time to find the first guy – the one who was standing in center of the alley – with a gun in his hand, aimed straight at Brittany. It's stupid, because she knows she should have just double checked to make sure all the men were out cold, but she didn't and now the guy's standing there with a gun.

_Fuck._

It happens all so fast that Santana barely has time to register it actually happened. She throws herself forward, arms wrapping around Brittany and body propelling forward until her forearms collide with a brick wall and her entire body is shielding the other girl's. A split second later, and the gun fires and only another after that, a sharp sting pierces into her back. Brittany gasps in front of her, face instantly burying into Santana's neck and Santana tries not to dwell onto the fact that lips are grazing over her freaking collarbones because _fuck. _She just got freaking _shot._

But she doesn't dwell on the pain, knowing her healing rate is like four hundred times faster than a human beings. Out the corner of her eye she locates a dumpster and reaches out for it, throwing it with one hand and a strength that right now, she's so unbelievably glad to have, straight towards the thug. It hits the guy with complete accuracy and pins him to the floor; probably crushing a few ribs in the process, and Santana just turns back to Brittany and slides her arm between the wall and the girl, cradling her as the girl's body begins to rack with sobs.

Santana pulls her closer and doesn't let go.

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed and please, write a review with your opinion! I take everything in and it helps my style my future writing!**

**Won't be too long to the next chapter, too!**


	4. Part Four: Separating Dreams And Reality

**Title: **A Whole New World (With You) [Part Four]  
**Rating: **R  
**Length: **4300

**Notes: **Your guys feedback has been awesome so far! Keep it coming!

* * *

Santana doesn't know how long they stand there for, but she doesn't really care. Her heart's beating loudly in her chest, she can feel the last of the adrenaline fizzing in her veins and Brittany's right in front of her, clutching to the collar of her shirt and pulling so tight that Santana thinks she might rip it. For all she cares, the blonde girl could. All that matters right now is that Brittany's safe and in her arms. So screw the damn shirt.

The last of the standing yet still slightly broken lights begins to flicker above her, and she becomes increasingly aware that if Brittany were to pull back, her identity would be revealed. Panic surges through her and she almost backs away and disappears into the night, but then Brittany whimpers and nudges her nose against the underside of her jaw and that idea goes flying out the window. Heat spreads across her skin, and it's hard to remember that about five minutes ago there were several dangerous thugs surrounding Brittany because the blonde is just so damn close...

But it did happen and Brittany still has absolutely no idea who Santana is.

It breaks her away from the embrace, and she ducks her head to conceal her face as she back into the darkness. Blue eyes are staring at her when she glances up, and it's almost embarrassing how much Santana just wants to go back over there and keep hugging the girl; but she quells the urge and swallows as Brittany shifts on her feet, fingers toying with the hem of her own shirt.

"Who... Who are you?" Brittany utters, but swallows and pauses, eyes narrowing as they try to figure out Santana's shadow. But Santana knows she can't be seen, and so when the blonde girl tilts her head and takes a small step forward, Santana shakes her head – despite the fact that Brittany can't see it – and holds a hand out to stop her.

"Don't come closer."Brittany stops and the corners of her mouth tilt up.

"Okay..." Her eyes flicker to the right, and Santana matches the movement to find the blonde girl staring at one of the passed out thugs. "How did you–I mean..." Brittany licks her lips and gestures to the guy with her right hand during a small pause. "How did you do that to those guys?"

"I'm... I'm not exactly normal," Santana answers. It's the truth and something about Brittany just makes the truth come out.

Blue eyes try to see through the darkness. "I can tell," Brittany says, but there's something soft in her voice and Santana almost smiles. "Why did you-Why did you save me?"

"Why wouldn't I?" Santana retorts with a shrug that can't be seen. But Brittany just gazes at the shadowed area she's standing in and sucks in her bottom lip, seeming as if she's trying to decipher the words for a hidden meaning. For no reason in particular, it freaks Santana out and she gulps and looks towards the floor, suddenly shy and nervous. "I-I should be-be going."

Brittany shuffles closer, brow furrowing in disapproval. "Do you have to? Can't you... Stay and talk?" She says, glancing up through her lashes.

And Santana takes a step back on instinct, her shoulder blades colliding with the wall and eyes growing wide as she realizes she has nowhere to go. This is not a good idea. Brittany's within touching distance and looking all gorgeous with eyes that are just so, _so _blue and a small smile that makes Santana's heart do weird flips, whilst Santana's let alone move. And her thoughts are just all over the freaking place so coherent sentences aren't really possible.

_God, _she just needs to get out of here.

"No," she replies. "I can't. Plus," she lifts a hand and holds it outside of the shadow, pointing a finger down the alley. "Your dad's about a second away anyway."

Brittany's eyes furrow momentarily before her eyes flash towards the road just as a car pulls up. Santana grins as she watches a soft smile grace the other girl's face before Brittany twists her head back and narrows her eyes in a way that says _how did you know that? _But Brittany knows, just like Santana does, that she won't answer that; so the blonde girl stays quiet and nods slowly.

"Smooth," Brittany says and Santana smirks as she side steps her way further into the darkness, allowing a wider gap for the other girl to move through. "I mean that was a nice touch."

"I know," she says as Brittany turns around and walks backwards up the alley. "But just remember, you might wanna be bit more careful next time."

"Careful how?"

Santana raises a brow. "As in try not to go down a dark alley at midnight in New York," she says, stating the obvious. "It's not exactly the wisest thing you've ever done."

Brittany stops and tilts her head to the side, expression turning amused. "And how do you know all the things I've done?"

A shot of panic surges through Santana, but she just crouches down, palm braced against the floor and then uses all the strength she has to jump high into the air and land with complete precision on the edge of the roof of the building beside her. The moon is behind her, wind blowing through her hair and Brittany gasps, presses a hand to her chest and follows the movement until she has to tip her head back to stare up at Santana's shadowed form.

"I know everything," Santana fires back and smirks, and she's pretty sure that Brittany sees it because the blonde grins back and drops her hand back to her side.

Nothing more is spoken, and Santana keeps her eyes on the other girl as she walks up the alley, carefully treading over the unconscious bodies with a grace that shouldn't be there. And Santana can't help but chuckle at that, rolling her eyes to herself and waiting until Brittany reaches her dad's car before leaving. There's no way she'd leave her after the events that occurred this evening, even if the chances of it repeating itself are marginally slim.

Brittany reaches the end of the alley and pauses, glancing back over her shoulder. "Thanks, mystery girl."

That catches her attention and Santana smiles.** "**No problem. Just watch out in the future, Brittany."

"How did you know my na–" The blonde girl stops herself, biting down on her bottom lip to prevent the flow of words and stares directly at Santana with a half-quizzical, half-amused expression. "You're really something, you know that?"

Santana grins and shoots a wink, knowing Brittany's received it by the slight blush covering her paled cheeks.

And it strikes Santana how strange how confident she feels with this identity; it's nothing like her usual one and the connection she's having with Brittany is so damn strong it's tempting to just show herself. But magicians never reveal their tricks and Santana's not there. _Yet._

"I'll see you when I see you," she says, moving to her feet and watching her shadow cover the pavement of the alley beneath in that sentence catches Brittany's attention. As the blonde opens the car door to climb in, she freezes, foot in mid-air and snaps her head around so fast Santana hears the bones in her neck click. Blue eyes narrow to the point of closing, and stare at her for long moments before Brittany shakes herself out of it and kick starts her brain again; shooting one last grin before climbing into the car and slamming the door shut.

Santana stares at the car with a grin on her face until it disappears around a corner.

When she flies off into the night, the only thing in her mind is the sound of Brittany's voice.

* * *

The lights are off when she returns home, and without making a sound – she hopes – she hovers outside her bedroom window, making sure no-one's around and then climbs inside, undressing after she shuts the window again.

Thoughts of the past hour or so fizzle in her mind, and she closes her eyes when all her clothing is stripped, wishing she has some sort of uniform to train and save people – since apparently that's what she does now – because jeans and a t-shirt just isn't comfortable. Sure, Arnold Schwarzenegger and Jean Claude Van Damme can do it, but she's eighteen and has only been training for a few years. Her skills aren't exactly matched to theirs.

An idea springs to mind, and she can almost imagine the lightbulb above her head when it processes. It's sort of silly, and she can imagine in years to come a comic book will be written after her and pinpoint this moment exactly, but whatever, she doesn't care. The idea is actually pretty good and she can kill two birds with one stone if she goes through with it.

So, immediately, she's rummaging through her wardrobe, grabbing her red skirt and ripping open her drawers and reaching for her little blue t-shirt. The shirt's a little on the small side – she's pretty sure the last time she wore it she didn't have boobs – but the skirt is long enough to go waist high so it shouldn't matter that much.

Dropping the items to the bed, she skips towards her desk and grabs the sketch pad and a pencil. She jumps cross legged onto the bed and feels the mattress bounce beneath her, but she doesn't care for the springs making a noise because her mind's focused and her hand is going a mile a second as she sketches down her thoughts.

* * *

It gets to 2am before she's completely happy with her sketch.

Discarding the blunt pencil, she holds the pad up and twists it towards the light; smiling and nodding in approval as her eyes roam around the cartilage paper.

There, in the center of the pad is a rough drawing of herself, clad in a short red skirt hoisted up to her waist, with a blue t-shirt tucked in and stitched together. But most importantly, on the breast of the shirt is a diamond, outlined in red with a yellow background and a red 'S' in the middle of the shape.

* * *

The next morning she wakes extra early, slapping her hand around the bedside table to turn off her alarm before climbing to her feet and dressing. Her abuelos don't wake for another hour, and so she has to move quickly. Creating your own t-shirt stencil takes some time, even for a mutant with super powers.

Hovering down the stairs – after remembering her grandma's words about her being rather loud for a girl of her talents – she heads over to the craft table and searches through it; relieved when she finds the items she needs. When all said and done, the items and the clothing go onto the table and the craft mat is spread out across the end of it. The last thing Santana needs is for her abuela to go all Jackie Chan on her ass because she got a mark on the damn mahogany table that was the '_best buy of the century_' apparently.

Realizing she actually needs some sort of spray for this stenciling, Santana heads out to the garage, wincing at the creaking back door and shifting back into a low hover. There's a variety of different shades of spray paint, and the sudden urge to hug her abuelo burns through her but then she remembers the whole secretive thing and how pissed her grandparents would be if they were to find out that Santana beat up three adult and muscled men – which lead her to this creative splurge – and that just wouldn't be any fun to explain.

So she shakes it off and grabs the two cans of spray paint she needs before gliding back into the house, arms loaded with the items needed.

Time to get creative.

* * *

Fifty four minutes later and Santana's arms are covered in spray paint. There's a small smudge on her cheek too, and there's a few spots of blood on her fingers where she nicked her skin with the scalpel and needle; but it's done. The uniform is finished and there's a strange sense of triumph bursting through her chest. It may be her first attempt but it's a pretty good one at that.

Perking up her ear as a creak comes from upstairs, Santana grabs the spray paint, scalpel and spray mount glue and doesn't bother for the carefulness she used earlier when walking, instead replacing it with her super speed and zooming through the house; a lamp or a plotted plant wobbling dangerously when she rushes by.

It's only a few moments later that she hears her grandmother yawn and feet pad towards the top of the stairs, and Santana widens her eyes. _Shit_. Looks like she's going through the window again.

Uniform in hand, she shifts into a hover _again, _and slips out the back door, scaling the house nervously – there could be people watching? It is daylight, after all! – and lifting the window before tumbling in. Probably not the most graceful of entrances ever, but the thought's quickly removed when the handle on the door to her room twists and she literally leaps into bed, slipping underneath the covers, clothes and all.

The sound of her grandma sighing flows to her ears, and she squeezes her eyes shut with the hope that overnight the older woman hasn't gained the ability to tell when Santana's asleep or not. Luckily, she hasn't, and so she shuts the door on the way out and Santana breathes out a sigh of relief as she brings her hands out, uniform included and examines it.

Okay, pretty good wasn't a good enough description. 'Cause this uniform? Is fucking _awesome._

* * *

The next day at school is pretty weird.

Santana doesn't know why, but she feels all kinds of awesome and confident as she climbs out her abuelo's car and heads up the steps into school. She thinks it could be something to do with the fact that she misplaced her glasses this morning so she's wearing contacts (she remembered on the car journey they were in the bottom of her school bag), or maybe it's because the uniform she crafted last night is currently beneath her clothes.

It's not like she planned it that way, though. About two minutes before she was due to leave for school, she was trying it on and twirling in the mirror, too caught up in her own admiration that she didn't hear her grandma outside her bedroom door before it was too late. There was only enough time to slip her usual clothes on and so the uniform just had to stay on.

However, it's given her some strange rush of confidence and right now, walking down the hallway, she's got her head held high and is receiving several odd looks. Whispered conversations are floating about too, and there's a few '_where's her glasses?' _and '_who is that? Is she new?' _thrown about between students as they pass her.

And whereas this sort of attention would usually freak Santana out, to the point where she would scamper away with her metaphorical tail between her legs and hide in the library for the rest of the day, she has to admit, she's kind of enjoying it.

But, as always, she speaks too soon.

Right after she turns the corner to go down the hallway leading to her Advanced Algebra class, it happens. A slushie, which feels more like a damn iceberg, crashes into her face and her entire body goes rigid. Thanks to the contacts, the corn syrup doesn't instantly begin to sting her corneas, but she snaps her eyes shut anyway; afraid of the several pointing people she knows accompany the laughs ringing through her ears. Humiliation buzzes through her, sizzling beneath her skin and she swears to God she can't wait for the day that she's out of here.

It just really pisses her off. The one day she actually comes into this shit hole of a school feeling good about herself, is the day fucking Puckerman decides to go all cherry-icy facial on her ass. She didn't even do anything. How is that fair?

"Just 'cos you take off the glasses doesn't mean you're not a nerd, Lopez!"

Santana clamps her jaw shut, teeth gritting together at the sound of Puckerman's voice. Rage burns through her and her fists begin to shake by her side. If there was any possible way she could grab him by the balls and string him up on the flag pole outside, allowing the entire school to hear him wail like a little girl without anyone knowing it was her that did it, that's _exactly _what she'd be doing right now.

"Once a nerd always a nerd! You're never going to have any friends!"Someone sing songs, a wave of laughter following it.

There's such a hatred burning inside of her for that guy, just itching for release in the form of a fist shaped hole in Puckerman's face, but she knows he's going to be one of those lazy, scummy college drops whose only option is to turn to a life of crime; where – if she continues her crime fighting thing – she'll get the opportunity to kick his ass into next week. It may not be in the next few weeks or years, but she'll get there and all will be good in the world.

(She seriously can't wait for that day.)

"Nerdpez! Nerdpez!" Someone begins to chant and it's only about ten seconds before the entire hallway joins in. "Nerdpez! Nerdpez!"

Too distracted by the sound of laughter, the chanting and the low buzz of humiliation in her ears, Santana doesn't hear the sound of footsteps trotting up beside her until long, slender fingers wrap around her wrist and tug her away.

At this point, she just wouldn't care if it was the cheer-bitches dragging her out the back towards the dumpsters to finish off this wonderful portion of her day; but then she becomes remotely aware of how her skin burns from where she's being touched, how when the hand on her arm flips and drags down to grasp at her own hand, she feels the tips of her fingers brush over a throbbing pulse. She's suddenly hyper-aware of this and her mind instantly zones into the heartbeat, beating smoothly but a little too fast.

But Santana doesn't open her eyes to question Brittany's pulse. She can't. That'd just be too weird. And so she just patiently waits until a hand presses into the small of her back and she's guided through a door and into the girls bathroom. The smell is enough to tell her that.

A long moment later, and the sound of a running water, wet tissue presses to the outsides of her eyelids and around the curve in her cheekbone. Not a second more and a hand cups up to cup her cheek, holding her face in place as Brittany continues to run the moistened paper across her skin. The touch is gentle, and she relaxes into it as Brittany wipes around the corners of her eyes and down and across her lower eyelids.

Santana wants to pull away and tell Brittany that she can do it herself, because the embarrassment is still coursing through her and she feels like she needs to prove herself to someone. To anyone. But she's never been able to resist the blonde and this time isn't any different.

"What happened?" Brittany asks softly, breaking the silence.

Santana inhales through her nose and breathes out, "Puckerman happened."

The hand cupping her cheek flexes. Brittany sighs angrily. "I'm sorry I couldn't stop it this time. I thought Karofsky would've passed on the message."

Santana shrugs. "Doesn't matter. It's not your job to save me. And I get it all the time, so."

"You should ignore him. He's an ass."

"I guess so," Santana agrees, cracking open her eye a tad to gaze at the other girl. "But the things he says... The things all of them say... They're right."

Brittany's eyes roam around her face, reading every inch of her skin like words are traced along them. "They only do it because they're scared of you," she says, tone bleeding sincerity. "You're going to make something of yourself and they won't. They're taking the opportunity to get the upper hand while they still can 'cause soon enough you'll be on top and they won't," she sighs and runs her fingers across Santana's brow. "That's why you shouldn't listen to them."

Heart skipping a beat, Santana braces herself against the sink behind her, butt resting on the lip and legs spreading until she's comfortable. Completely unprepared for Brittany stepping between them and shifting closer, Santana freezes and feels her eyes grow wide, hands coming round to rest on her thighs subconsciously.

They're so close now; so close that Santana can count just how many eyelashes the other girl has, how many freckles dust her cheek and how her eyes sparkle when the sunlight hits them at the right spot. It manages to takes her breath away for a moment, before she remembers Brittany said something and forces herself out of distraction.

"It's kind of hard not to listen to them when they say all the time," she sighs and drops her head a little. Only for Brittany to tilt her head back up and press the wet tissue against her cheek, wiping away the slushie stains.

It seems as if the blonde girl's about to respond as her mouth pops open a little, but Santana catches her before she can, knowing there's not many responses that can be said to her sentence and points towards her bag on the floor with the hope that it'll change the subject.

"Could you pass my glasses, please? I think they're in the side pocket of my bag."

Lips pinching up at the side and eyes hesitant, Brittany drops her hands and shuffles away, turning and bending to fish out the pair of thick black-rimmed spectacles in the side pocket. When they're in hand, the blonde twists back around and silently hands over the glasses, her fingertips brushing over the back of Santana's hand when she takes them.

Sliding them up her nose, Santana finally takes a look at Brittany's expression and immediately hates it. She knows that look. It's the one her grandma gives her whenever she used to come home from school with _another _pair of broken spectacles in hand and it's the one that follows that _'you're better than them' _speech which eventually, just hurts to hear. Because clearly she isn't better than them. Years ago, she would nod along to her abuela's words because yeah, she had the grades and the future ahead of her and they didn't.

But now... Now she's not so sure. Because when people start saying things about you, after a while, you just start to believe them.

And that's what she can see on Brittany's face. That's what she can see churning inside the cogs of Brittany's mind. "San–"

"Jesse's probably waiting for you," Santana cuts in, straightening up and slipping past Brittany towards the door. "And I've got a class to get to. So..."

Brittany stares at her, a lopsided smile on her face and uncertainty in her eyes. "Santana..." she starts, but decides it's not best to say at the last second and lets out a sigh instead. "Yeah... Sure."

Santana clenches her jaw and nods sternly, reaching out with one hand to pull the bathroom door open whilst desperately focusing on _not _looking back. There's a voice in the back of her head telling her to turn around because the eyes burning a hole into her skull are just too much to handle.

But then she thinks about how much this shouldn't be happening. How the popular girl and the nerd shouldn't even know each others names, let alone be talking in the damn girl's bathroom alone. How they shouldn't have even looked at each other, let alone Brittany standing between Santana's legs, cupping one cheek and wiping away corn syrup from her other.

This just shouldn't be happening. At all. And she can't think that it will because disappointment only comes when hopes are set too high.

So it's about time she separated reality from dreams and just got on with her sad, lonely little life.

She steps out the door, heel catching it on the swing back when she hears two words follow her out. "Bye, Santana."

Twisting her head, she quirks her lips into a sad smile. "Bye, Britt," she whispers, then leaves, returning to normality with her glasses on and her Quantum Physics textbook in hand.

* * *

**The review box is only down there... *points down***


	5. Part Five: The Stars And The Roof

**Title: **A Whole New World (With You) [Part Five]  
**Rating: **R  
**Length: **5600**  
**

**Notes: **Thank you for all your reviews! You guys are incredible!

* * *

She meets Quinn on a Thursday. Well, '_meets_' is probably the wrong word. '_Run into_' perhaps.

Santana's ambling along the hallway, heading for the library and trying to figure out how the hell a girl with freaking _super powers _can't carry five textbooks as well as her back pack, when a body collides with hers. Due to her status as resident nerd of McKinley High, she's kind of grown accustomed to people walking into her or shoving her with their shoulders, and not apologizing afterward. Which technically means that if she's so damn used to it, the collision shouldn't _still _send her sprawling out onto the floor and cause her books to fly everywhere; but it does, and that's exactly how she meets Quinn.

Legs strewn across the linoleum floor, Santana groans and grabs at her forehead. Sometime between standing and falling, she managed to smack her head on something and now it's kind of throbbing. If it weren't for her super-fast healing ability, there'd be a bruise for sure.

"Oh my God!" A voice half-shouts, hands grabbing at air as if that'll help. "I'm so sorry! I didn't see you. Shit. I'm sorry."

Santana narrows her eyes and peers up through her glasses. She has to tilt them, because they're wonky on her face, but then gets a good look at the person who ran right into her. And surely enough, there's a girl; a pretty girl with short blonde hair and a knee length dress that makes her look like Sandy from _Grease_ before the weird leather suit transformation fiasco, and her hazel eyes are wide and full of worry despite the smirk on her face completely contradicting her other facial features.

So, confused, and aching a little, Santana climbs to her feet, dusting off her overalls and bending back down to pick up her books. "It's fine," she says, trying not to throw a childish huff. "It's not like it's the first time." _Or the last, _she thinks to herself.

The blonde girl doesn't reply, just lets out a small under-the-breath chuckle that's muffled by her hand and stares. It's weird to think that while Santana's picking up her books this girl's just watching her – who does that? Shouldn't she be helping or something? Or at least be walking away and leave Santana with an ounce of her dignity after falling flat on her ass. Ridding her thoughts from her mind, Santana nudges her glasses further up her nose and straightens again, books gathered in her arms. She finds the girl staring at her with an amused expressed and squints, curiously. What's up with this chick?

"What?"

Hazel eyes roam over her body, examining her outfit, her textbooks, her glasses and the bulging backpack swung over her shoulder. The smirk only grows. "So you're a nerd, huh?"

Dark eyebrows shoot up. "Wow, don't hold back or anything," Santana drawls, sarcastically.

"I won't," the girl says, uncrossing her arms and holding out a hand. "I'm Quinn."

Santana raises a brow. It's not like people to talk to her so out of the blue – especially after discovering the nerd within (or not so within apparently) – nor is it like people in this day and age to hold out a damn hand whilst introducing themselves. But never one to be rude or judgmental within the first meeting – anything after that is fair game – Santana shifts her books onto one arm and takes the offered hand, shaking it firmly.

"Santana," she says, offering a small smile and retracting her hand when necessary. Silence sets in and the first feeling of awkwardness creeps into the conversation, so Santana clears her throat and blinks purposely. "You're new, huh?" Quinn nods. "Where did you transfer from?"

"Fairbrook."

Santana's eidetic memory kicks in and she squints _again._If memory serves her well, and _yeah, _there's no doubt that it does, she quite clearly remembers that Fairbook isn't a high school. But then again, why would Quinn lie?

"Isn't that a middle school?"

"No, no," the blonde girl almost snaps, and instantly, Santana's hearing zones into the sound of Quinn's pulse picking up. Suspicion courses through her veins, cold and sharp. _Is _Quinn lying? "Not the Fairbrook in Beavercreek. It's in Michigan."

"Oh, right."

Santana doesn't know any different. She knows a lot of things – like, _a lot _–but Geography was never her strong point and so Quinn could be lying, but as there's no reason to, so. Knowing the conversation is coming to an end, she glances around and realizes the entire hallway is empty, apart from her and this girl, and it comes to her attention that she should probably be heading down to the library as homework doesn't do itself.

"Well it was nice meeting you," her voice is a little high and she throws in a smile, side stepping around Quinn. "I'll see you around."Quinn smiles back and nods, and Santana heads towards the library but not before her name is called and she turns on her heel to face the way she came. "Yeah?"

"You, um, forgot your Advanced Chemistry book."

Eyes flickering down to said textbook, Santana walks back up to the girl and takes it, wedging it beneath her arm along with the other book and hugs her folder closer to her chest. "Thanks," she murmurs, beginning her journey to the library again_._

"I'll see you in Chemistry."

Santana pauses and glances over her shoulder. "You're in Mr Grant's class?"

Quinn nods from her position and smooths the dress down by her thighs, eyes roaming over Santana's shoulder. "Yeah, I've gotta go. Bye, Santana."

Santana offers a little smile and watches as the other girl disappears around the corner. Quinn's eyes drifted over her shoulder like she'd seen someone, but there's no-one there? Maybe Quinn was just deep in thought and went off on her own little daydream.

Wait... Why is Santana getting so suspicious?

Shrugging off her thoughts, she makes her way to the library.

* * *

Santana's sitting on her stoop the following night, legs in front of her, crossed at the ankles and her school folder propped upon her thighs. Pages and pages of her Spanish assignment are laid out beside her, and the only reason she's out here is because despite her Spanish descent and ability to _speak _Spanish fluently – her parents were Puerto Rican – she's actually a little rusty on the writing side of the language. So that means a lot of practicing and so what if it's a slightly weird place to do homework? The stoop is comfortable once you put a pillow on it and there's always that upside that her abuelo's won't distract or disturb her out here.

Plus, it's a Friday, and there may or may not be a routine she follows every week that includes the girl next door.

As standard routine, the clock strikes 7:30pm and the sound of an American Muscle car – Shelby GT 500 Mustang, Santana notes – can be heard in the distance. She rolls her eyes, just like she did the week before, and waits for the car to pull up on the pavement outside Brittany's house with heavy rock music booming out the speakers and most likely waking all infants within a miles radius. And on queue, it does. The wheels skid slightly as the handbrake is pulled a little earlier than necessary – it burns tire marks on the road and apparently that's _cool _–and then the car revvs, once, twice, before stopping completely.

It's Jesse. Of fucking course. It's always fucking Jesse at 7:30pm on a Friday, here to pick up a girl that's _way _too good for him. Fucking Jesse St. James with his A Team inspired ride, expensive leather jacket and that slimy fucking smirk pasted across his meerkat-like face.

_Ugh, _Santana really, _really _fucking hates him.

The music shuts off and so does the engine, and then there's this few seconds of eery silence before the car door opens and Jesse climbs out; all description from before right in tact. He pulls on the lapels of his jacket, running his tongue along his bright white teeth and then kicks the door shut, thumbing the key fob until the car side-lights beep and it locks.

And Santana can't help but kind of judge Brittany at this point. It doesn't make sense, because Brittany's quite possibly the nicest, most beautiful person to ever walk this earth, with golden hair, gleaming sapphire eyes and the kindest heart to have ever beaten. Then there's Jesse, who, is basically just a jerk – jerk being a compliment, actually – and Santana just can't really understand how they could be together. Seriously. How does heaven and hell come together in love?

It doesn't, and that's why she has such a hard time seeing the connection.

There's thousands of people out there who would be better suited for Brittany. Not that Santana thinks she is or anything. She means, she probably could do a better job because Jesse is but he's an ass. Pretty much anyone could. But then again she's more suited to Brittany; they have more in common and you know, she'd appreciate and worship every second she ever got with Brittany. Whilst Jesse just flippantly breezes through it and spends his free time with his arm wrapped around some other chick's shoulder, doing God knows what else behind closed doors.

That's just not okay, and Santana hates that she has to witness Brittany doing something she'll most likely regret in years to come. But Santana isn't someone who can speak on the blonde girl's behalf, nor is she someone to tell Brittany how big of a mistake she's making by dating the world's biggest douche bag, and surely, there's gotta be a reason as to why Jesse and Brittany are together anyway. So Santana's best to just stay out of it.

But she still likes to keep an eye on things every one of Jesse and Brittany's date nights. Which just happens to be tonight.

"What's up, dork?" Someone hisses, and Santana clenches her jaws, eyes flashing to Jesse in a glare. Here comes this weeks insults. "Don't you have some nerdy, Comic-Con bullshit event to go?"

"Good one, Jesse. How long did that take you to conjure up? Or did you just get daddy to pay for someone to come up with it _for _you?" She fires back, eyes straying from her notes to the narrowed glare being shot her way. "Oh, and by the way? Comic-Con isn't _just _about comic books. But you probably wouldn't know that because the event isn't advertised in written in chalk in the inside of a cave."

Jesse's fists balls by his thigh and stops walking. "Fuck off, Nerdpez. I don't know about it because I'm not a fucking nerd who has nothing better to do than dress up as stupid fucking comic book character and prance around with other freaks like you. And who needs brains when you've got money, the looks and popularity anyway?" He smirks back. "I've got the full package."

"Apart from the one in your pants," she hisses. "That's under-sized."

Anger flashes across Jesse's eyes. "Like you'd know anything about what's in my pants. And even if you did that doesn't mean I'm not popular and you're not a dork with no friends."

The guy says that so often that Santana doesn't even feel the slice of hurt cutting through her anymore. It's kind of a fact that she has no friends. Sam moved away. She only hangs out with Mercedes in gym class and there's been a few conversations between her and Brittany, but she wouldn't class them as _friends. _That just wouldn't happen. And, admittedly, thinking that does still sting a little, but that's unavoidable: having a crush on someone that you're not even friends with. Now _that's _when you know you have _no _chance.

"It also doesn't change the fact you look like you swam here, water boy. You might wanna tone down on the hair gel a little next time," she retorts, eyeing up his slick backed throws in a shrug and grins, just to piss him off and it works because his upper lip curls whilst a self-conscious hand comes up to rake through his hair like he's Danny-fucking-Zuko. The hand left dangling by his side clenches into a tight fist and Santana can see the intent to hit her flickering across his eyes.

And _God, _she would love to see him try and hit her. The sheer surprise on his face when she either dodged it, or took it like a man and then delivered one hell of a blow straight back would be all too amazing.

Jesse steps forward towards the fence, raising his fist a little. "You little fucking–"

"Jesse," a heavenly voice flows through the warm air of this New York city night and Santana's stomach flips, shoulders deflating from the aggressive stance she wasn't aware she was showing.

Glancing to the right, she peers into the Pierce's front yard and watches in awe as Brittany basically _struts _down the pavement like it's a red carpet, dressed in a tight blue dress that compliments her eyes and cream heels that elongate her already endless legs.

Santana catches her breath and begins to choke, thinking inwardly how amusing it is that Brittany _literally _just took her breath away; even when she doesn't actually _need _to breathe, being a mutant and all. Her mouth runs dry and she has to physically close her jaw from it's slack position a second before she remove her gaze and tries to focus so desperately on her notes because _holy crap, _Brittany looks so hot and it's bottoming out in a warm pool low in her gut. If Jesse doesn't her immediately how fucking gorgeous she looks, Santana's not sure she can handle just sitting here and watching him be a jackass. Someone like Brittany deserves to be told how beautiful she is as much as possible.

"Stop being mean," Brittany continues softly, snapping her clutch bag shut with slender fingers and gazing Santana's direction. "Hey, Santana."

Jesse, being the possessive and boastful fuck he is, steps forward to greet his girlfriend and throws an arm around her waist, pulling her by the hip close to his side whilst smirking over her head at Santana – who, for her part, tells herself he's not worth it and manages a smile back at the blonde girl, whilst nudging her glasses up her nose. Jesse's face falls a bit when Brittany sighs out as soon as their eyes meet, and Santana makes sure to smirk at the guy when blue eyes flicker away for the quickest of seconds because she just _knows _Jesse heard or felt that sigh.

"The freak just fucking cussed me, babe," Jesse complains like a little child and Santana rolls her eyes. _What a catch. _**"**Don't say hello to _t__hat._"

Brittany pauses and grabs at his wandering hand, traveling down to her ass. "She's not a freak. Not get in the car and lets go," she demands and Santana watches Jesse hover momentarily, the decision to argue slipping off his tongue.

But he bites it back and holds his head high, smirking triumphantly before grabbing Brittany's chin and tilting it up to press a rough kiss against her lips, just because he fucking well can. Santana knows that was done in front of her to piss her off, and _damn _how she wishes that didn't effect her. But it did, and now she's glancing away, swallowing the rising bile, trying to make her heart jump back down from her throat and pushing down the urge to just walk back in the house all at once; because then, Jesse would know he'd won and this battle has been going on between them for too long for one of them to _finally _win. Santana's stubborn like that.

"Okay, sweet cheeks," Jesse says when they pull apart, and Brittany slaps his wrist away from her face and frowns at him, squinting as if to say _did you really have to do that?_

Santana just focuses on her books, ignoring the way her heart's clenching inside her chest and pounding loudly from the hurt she feels. Which is stupid because she's seen them kiss a thousand times before, and yeah, sure, they've sucked all those times too, but that was before Brittany actually started talking to her. Before that stupid little spark inside of her lit and that tiny burst of hope formed inside her. Naive, and stupid, she knows. She'd never have a chance with Brittany, and it was just wishful thinking that she had. So now, at this moment, irrational disappointment is all she's feeling. Well, she kind of wants to puke too. Watching Jesse with his hands on Brittany does that to her.

"Santana?" Brittany calls, concern wavering her voice. "Are you okay?"

Looking up, Santana finds Jesse inside the car, turning on the engine and the awful metallic sound he calls music, and Brittany by the fence nearest the stoop. "I'm fine," she replies, trying not to stare into sparkling blue eyes. It's her weakness. "Have a good night."

She tries to pour sincerity into her tone but it betrays her and she thinks the other girl notices because Brittany's brows twitch with uncertainty and she edges away from the chain link fence separating their two houses and moves towards Jesse's car.

"Oh... Okay..." Brittany murmurs, low and hurt; her eyes darting around like they don't know where to focus. "I'll... see you later."

Santana barely looks up as she replies, "Yeah. Bye, Brittany," and waits for the car to peel away from the curb before leaning back and sighing in defeat.

She's never going to get the girl.

* * *

Sitting outside on the stoop for hours can get a bit boring, and so Santana decides to mix up her incredibly exciting Friday night by heading inside to grab a glass of water and make a tuna sandwich before returning to her the patch on the decking of the stoop where her ass has basically made a print she's been sitting there so long.

After filling up her glass and holding her sandwich in her mouth – all the plates are in the dishwasher at the moment – she walks back through the kitchen and living room with the stoop as her destination. But then a noise stops her and she freezes, eyes sliding around until they land on the unfamiliar sound of a text message coming through on her phone. Only unfamiliar because she's assigned specific tones for Sam and her abuelo's and neither of them are the one she just heard. Who the hell is texting her?

Santana heads on over, the curiosity getting too much for her, and grabs her phone, quickly punching in the pass code and watching the message box pop up on the screen. The number isn't registered as a contact on there, and so she just figures it's one of those information texts asking about PPI insurance or car insurance or something. She used to get them all the time when she was fifteen. But she opens it anyway, and finds the text is actually meant for her, from someone she knows.

_Hey, I think I have the right number. Is this Santana? - Quinn (The girl you ran into outside the library. Literally.)_

Santana raises an eyebrow but chuckles and types back: _Lol yeah, this is the right number. What's up? - Santana_

_Sorry for interrupting your evening, but do you have the the questions to the assignment set in algebra? - Q_

_Yeah, sure. Did you lose them? - S_

_Not so much lost them as they were destroyed. Had my first taste of an icy facial today. - Q_

Santana shakes her head. That's one of Jesse's things. Any new kid that turns up to school – guy or girl – has to go through the ritual of being slushied with an extra large cup of Cherry slushie; the only flavor with the most corn syrup in and the worst color to get out of _any _clothing.

_Guessing it was a jackass in a leather jacket? - S_

_Yeah. Jesse St. James. -__Q_

Jerking her head back, she pulls her lips down at the side, confused. Usually people don't know of Jesse until day four of McKinley High. _You know him already? - S_

_Yeah. I've known him for a while actually. - Q_

Suspicion courses through her veins. She doesn't know why Quinn makes her feel this way. She just does. _Really? Me too. I've never heard of you before though and I'm pretty sure you didn't go to our elementary or middle school? - S_

It comes out a little more pressured than she meant but Quinn doesn't hesitate in texting back quickly. _No, I didn't go to school with him. It's a family thing. - Q_

Santana squints as it clicks that she doesn't even know Quinn's last name. That's strange, right? She pauses in her text and mulls over what she's going to say. It was only yesterday she met the girl and she doesn't want to delve straight into Quinn's past and demand she tell her about her family and the connection with the St. James' – that'd just be a bit weird and _way _too soon.

_Oh, cool, _she texts back. _Well if you text me your e-mail address I'll send you a copy of the assignment through there. - S_

_Great. Thanks Santana. See you on Monday – Q_

Santana types back, _Yeah, sure, no problem. Bye. – S, _before putting down her phone and staring at it for a long moment.

She walks back out onto the stoop and shakes the suspicion out her mind only a few seconds later.

* * *

It gets to 10pm when the stars begin to poke their shiny little heads through the dark canvas of the sky. Santana smiles and glances up, sighing at how damn beautiful they all look and wonders if there's more to life than what's here on Earth. Mutants exist, so why can't aliens? Or even another life form on Mars or Pluto or something.

Closing her eyes, she discards her notes, papers and folders off her lap moves to her feet. She heads down the stairs and crosses her arms across her chest, almost as if she could feel the light breezing blowing across her skin and tilts her head back to gaze at the sky. Everything's just so damn calm and it's kind of crazy how staring at the stars can effect a person. Because every star is like a different story and Santana truly believes, that since her parents said they'd stare down at her and now they're up as one of those bright stars, that every other star is just like that. Everyone has a star and if they concentrate hard enough, their loved one or their story can be seen behind one of those stars.

With her mind delving into deep thoughts – some of which cause a little melancholy to fall around her – she lets out a heavy sigh and turns back towards the stoop, collecting her textbooks and shoving them inside. Enough of her assignment has been done and there are so many Spanish phrases and words in her mind that she might actually turn into a damn burrito at this point; so she just decides to enjoy herself a little on a Friday night and heads up to the flat portion of the roof.

It's been her little place for a while now, where she can just lay back and stare at the sky without anyone judging and looking at her because this is her zone. The 'Santana zone' and not even her grandparents have been up here. Even if they could get here, she's a little protective of this place because it's _hers _and the stars. Hers and her own story.

And she's not quite ready to share that with anyone yet.

* * *

The sound of tires screeching makes Santana's head snap up so fast she's sure it's not connected to her neck anymore. There's a car, approximately 52.4 meters down the road, driving at a speed of 54mph, heading this way and the sudden wonderment of what she'd do if the car just kept coming, runs through her mind. Would she try and stop it? And risk people peering out their windows and seeing a teenage girl stop a car with her bare hands? Or would she just let it come and watch it destroy whatever it hit?

But then she hears voices and she's broken from her thoughts. That voice... She knows too well and the other she, unfortunately, knows too.

She rolls her eyes immediately as the car speeds up a little, knowing that it will probably finish off with some handbrake turn as Jesse attempts to impress Brittany and honestly, sometimes it's like Jesse is the reincarnation of that kid in _Grease _with the terrible skin. The one that chews on a damn cocktail stick and challenges Danny Zuko to a race even though he's quite obviously _not _going to win.

Jesse is just _that much _of a dick.

The car stops right outside Brittany's house, swerving a little and skidding to a stop. Santana props herself up, but keeps herself low enough so that she can't be seen from her position on the roof; and even though there's nothing more she wants to do right now than perk up her ears and take advantage of her advanced hearing skills, she knows that's crossing a line in terms of privacy. And so just waits, keeping her breathing steady whilst keeping an eye trained on the car.

It doesn't help, though. The serene silence of this street at night means listening is unavoidable.

_"No, Jesse. You scared me."_

_"Oh, come on, baby." The sound of fingers brushing back hair, then lips meeting skin. "It was just a little bit of fun."_

_"Well it wasn't! You could've crashed!"_

Santana nods in agreement, even though no-one can see her from here. What the hell is she doing? Creeping in on someones conversation? She just knows she looks like a complete idiot right now.

_A scoff. "Well I didn't fucking crash, did I, Britt? Jheeze just let loose and have some fun, baby."_

_A heavy exhale and a harsh, "No, but you still managed to be a jerk. I'm going inside. Goodbye, Jesse."_

Santana raises her eyebrows in shock. She's never heard Brittany tone so flat and angered before. Nor has she heard her swear, actually.

_"Not even a goodnight kiss?" Silence. "Psht," a hand slaps the steering wheel. "Get the fuck out my car then."_

The door opens quietly, but slams loudly and Santana has to shake off the enhanced hearing to make sure she doesn't go deaf. She shuffles a little further down the roof, leaving her notebook up by the roof window leading to her bedroom, to get a better look as to Brittany's condition. She can hear her rapid heartbeat, loud and clear, but she was able to hear that from where the car was up the road, but so far there's no little sobs or whimpers telling her that the Brittany's crying.

The sound of the car engine revving loudly echoes down the street, and for a split second Santana imagines bursting the tires with a tiny heat ray and chuckling into the night as Jesse climbs out his car, wondering what the hell just happened. But then her eyes snap to Brittany and she hears a tiny whimper, and that gets her legs dangling off the roof and attention turned.

She doesn't quite know how to approach this, because she's only had a few conversations with Brittany in the past and none of them were after witnessing her douchebag of a boyfriend kick her out the car. Which the blonde will know Santana saw as soon as she sees her sitting on the roof. Although that makes it a little worse because it seems as if Santana spends her free time watching her and _oh, God, _Brittany's going to think she's a stalker so she needs to say something that _isn't _creepy as hell and _i__s _slightly intelligent.

But as always, her mouth begins to speak before her mind even forms words and it just comes out.

"Your boyfriend's kind of an asshole."

Blue eyes flash to her immediately, and she almost cowers away right then, sliding into her bedroom and pretending that she never said that. But then Brittany lets out this little noise, halfway between a sob and a chuckle and Santana can't help but smile down at the girl as she walks towards the chain-link fence.

"Kind of?" Brittany repeats, kicking the bottom of her shoe along the dirt and looking down at the movement.

"Yeah. You're right," Santana shrugs and kicks her feet against the side of the house, eyes flickering down but meeting blue ones when she says, "He's _the _biggest asshole."

Brittany giggles and her eyes twinkle brightly in the darkness, and for some reason it makes Santana's stomach feel all warm and funny, like when you drink a coffee, or a tea, and it's too hot but when it settles in your stomach it feels really good. She rolls her eyes at her own lame analogy and grips onto the side of the roof, straightening her arms at the elbow so her shoulders go up to her ears. Brittany's still staring at her, like she wants something but doesn't know how to ask for it and it only takes a moment for Santana to get it.

"You wanna join me?" She asks, hearing Brittany's breath hitch in her throat as she tilts her head to the side, eyebrow raised.

"Up on the roof?"

For a second – only a split second – Santana thinks that she asked the wrong thing and will be laughed at because the other girl has this _really? _kind of look on her face, but then Brittany's expression twists and softens, and Santana blushes, knowing the girl was just teasing her.

"I would love to," Brittany says, ducking through the hole in the fence and stepping beneath Santana on the roof, but pausing and biting on the edge of her bottom lip when she gets there. "But you're gonna have to help me." Her cheeks tinge pink, embarrassed, like she's only just realized scaling the side of the house is pretty hard.

"I would love to," Santana parrots and receives a grin and a playful squinting of blue eyes.

She shifts along the edge of the roof, keeping her legs off the side and stops when her heels tangle in one of the vines wrapped around the trellis stuck to the side of the house, beckoning Brittany to climb up at this point. Technically, it would be so much easier if the other girl came in through her house and climbed out the bedroom window, but her grandparents are most likely asleep and waking them up probably wouldn't be the greatest idea. God only knows they're crabby as hell when they are woken up by anything but their alarm clocks or the birds chirping outside.

Brittany steps up to the trellis, reaching up and grabbing onto the wood above her head and looking down at her feet whilst she begins to climb. About a second after lifting off the ground, the blonde snaps her head up and with wide eyes shakes her head.

"I don't think this is going to hold my weight," she says, and Santana watches the trellis bend slightly beneath the other girl. It won't break, Santana's sure of it.

"It will," she assures but Brittany stays doubtful and pulls her brows together. "But if you're unsure then take my hand," she holds herself up with her left hand and reaches down with her right, flexing it.

Only a second later and slender fingers glide up her palm, making Santana's pulse pick up considerably so. Luckily, Brittany doesn't notice as she's you know, not a mutant with super senses, and so Santana shakes herself out the distraction and using her abnormal strength, pulls Brittany up onto the roof with her.

* * *

**How am I doing? Everyone enjoying it so far?**


	6. Part Six: All In The Vegetables

**Title: **A Whole New World (With You) [Part Six]**  
Rating: **R**  
Length: **4600

**Notes: **Over 100 reviews now, thanks guys! You're awesome.

* * *

They've been alone before.

They've had conversations one-on-one on several occasions, recently admittedly, but none-the-less, they've had them.

And yet now that they're sitting up here, Santana's kind of frozen.

She's suddenly become incredibly aware that she and Brittany are alone, on a Friday night, up on _her _roof, in _her _space, and that they're not really talking.

She's also aware that the temperature has dropped by like ten degrees and now Brittany's shivering next to her, curling her arms around her own body and tucking her knees to her chest; and that if she were a normal person, she's probably be cold too.

"I'm sorry about earlier," Brittany says, breaking the silence. Santana glances at her quizzically. "I mean, with Jesse."

Santana's lips curl up at the side. "It's no big deal. He's always been a dick."

"Always?"

"Yeah," she nods. "You didn't know he used to bully me in Kindergarten?"

Brittany's eyebrows pull together and she shakes her head, saddened by the news. "No, I didn't. You should've told me. I would have done something to stop it."

Remembering the times where she'd sit underneath the oak tree, staring at Brittany and wishing so, _so _badly that she could be her friend flash through her mind.

It's so clear in her mind, and for once she wishes she didn't have the whole eidetic memory thing because it kind of hurts; it's just a reminder that she's been in love with Brittany for _that _long. Fawning over her for _that _long.

And sure, maybe she didn't know back then it was love, she just thought it was what people felt for others when they wanted to be friends with them, but as time went on, she knew it was love. How could it not be? She couldn't help falling in love with Brittany. Even at three years old.

And seriously, she's pathetic. _It's _pathetic. To be in love with someone for that long and for them never to return the feelings? That's just sad.

The thing is though? She doesn't quite know how _not _to be pathetic and sad. She's been like this for so long that it's turned into what she'd deem as normal.

She sighs. Not only is she pathetic but she's ridiculous. "No, it's fine," she says, trying to distract herself from her thoughts. "Like I said, it's no big deal."

Brittany presses her lips together tightly, furrowing her brow and clenching her jaw in distaste to Santana's tone. But Santana's glances away, unable to handle the way blue eyes bore into the side of her face.

It goes on for long moments, and she's about a second away from asking the other girl to stop it – because honestly it kind of freaks her out when people stare for too long. Possibly to do with the irrational fear that she'll slip up and blow a car up with a blink of her eyes or something – but then Brittany shivers and her teeth begin to chatter, and it completely distracts her.

She twists in her seat, torso facing Brittany and then turns back, debating whether or not to do what she's thinking.

Except she doesn't really have time to even stop herself because the other girl begins to rub her hands up her own arms and Santana zones into the way small goosebumps over her creamy skin.

Weirdly, it makes her throat run dry.

"Here," she says – sort of harder than intended 'cause she's nervous – and shrugs herself out her hoodie, slipping her arms out the sleeves and then folding it in half over her hand, offering it out. "Take this."

Blonde eyebrows shoot up, and Brittany stares at her for a long second before stretching out a shaking hand and grasping the piece of clothing. Blue eyes stay locked on her profile and Santana makes the mistake of flicking her vision up to them, making eye contact.

The only reason it's a mistake is because Brittany's eyes are stunning and dangerous from afar, but up close? They're deadly. They're so damn beautiful that Santana's breath hitches in her throat and she forgets how any part of her body functions, which means she's just sitting there, lips parted and eyes wide, gazing into these blue orbs that have small silver flecks around the pupil.

These eyes that are so beautiful her mind is actually blank and without even really realizing it, she's unconsciously leaning in and _still _staring like a completely freaking idiot.

The best thing about it, though?

Is that it hits her that even though, yes, she is staring like a complete tit, Brittany's not breaking eye contact either. Brittany's freaking holding it and she doesn't even seem to be moving away from Santana's subconscious advances.

That makes everything a million times more intense and Santana's heart thumps so loudly against her ribcage, she thinks Brittany might be able to hear it.

But then there's this flash, inside her mind that sizzles straight to her stomach and suddenly she's panicking. She's panicking because Brittany's eyes roam around her face, tracing a line from the curve of her jaw down her neck towards her collarbone. Santana feels them, hot and heavy, and she – for some stupid fucking reason – decides to lick her lips and stare at Brittany's.

And that's when blue eyes narrow and Brittany's head tilts to the side, a smile playing at her lips.

"You're not wearing your glasses," she says, breaking the moment.

Santana backs away so fast she's surprised she doesn't fall off the roof, begin to fly and accidentally shoot off into space. It takes a few seconds for her to process what was said, but then she reaches up to her face and consciously touches it, her cheeks instantly flushing and heart picking up for an entirely different reason than it did a minute ago.

_Shit. _

She didn't think she'd have any company tonight, so she'd left her glasses on the bedside table. And now she doesn't know quite what to do or say.

Should she go back inside and get them?

"Oh, um, yeah," she stutters, glancing away and shutting her eyes as the memory of that damn murdered squirrel flashes through her mind. It would be just her luck to get this close to Brittany and then do something stupid like shoot heat rays out her eyes and kill a dog or some type of living creature.

(Too focused on the tragedy that is her nerdy, awkward life, she missed the way Brittany seemed entranced by Santana's eyes.)

"I should probably go and get them," she presses her palm to the roof and begins to stand.

But a hand snaps out and fingers latch around her wrist, instantly stopping her movement mid-stride. Heart skipping a beat from the touch, Santana whips her head around to stare at the girl but then remembers the whole eye problem and snaps her eyes shut.

_Fuck it. _

Sometimes having super powers isn't awesome; it just means she can't stare into Brittany's gorgeous blue eyes without the fear that she'll accidentally blind the girl.

Her thoughts are interrupted with the feeling of the grip around her wrist loosening, and then knuckles brush along her cheek softly, up to her temple and then down along her jawline. Her entire body shudders at the contact and a long exhale comes from her mouth. Brittany's touch is so damn gentle.

"Don't," Brittany murmurs. "Don't close them. I've never really seen you without your glasses," she shifts her hand position until her fingers are lingering along the hinge of Santana's jaw, almost cupping her cheek. "And now I'm sure I never want to see you _with _them again."

Brittany's staring into her eyes so deeply that Santana almost thinks the girl can see straight into her soul. And it freaks her out. Freaks her out so much that she actually shuffles away from the other girl, bending her legs at the knees and planting both feet on the ground, arms dangling off of them as her eyes roam off into the distance.

Getting close to people isn't exactly a specialty of hers. And it's sad because it's not like there's a reason for it.

She wishes there were though; something like having her heart broken or a best friend breaking her trust, but there's not. Just plain insecurity.

She really is pathetic.

"I like my glasses."

It comes out a little defensively, and Brittany's eyes grow wide like she's not sure what she's done. But instead of swelling on it, she slips her arms into the hoodie in her hands and pulls it over her head, tugging it at the hem until it settles nicely around her hips. It's a big of a snug fit, because Santana's shorter than she is, and Brittany has a more femine shape, but Santana has to pinch her thigh to not look because it's snug in a _good _way.

A _very good _way.

"No, I didn't mean that," the words come out muffled as Brittany's pulls the sleeve down her hand and brings both fists up to her mouth to warm them. "I like them, too. A lot. I've just never seen you without them."

She says it so honestly that Santana doesn't even hesitate in believing her. She just nods and offers a small smile, clearing her throat when their eyes lock again.

That was a mistake the first time so a second time wouldn't be good.

"So... You and Jesse," she say, wanting to slap herself in the face instantly for bringing this topic up. She doesn't want to know anything about Jesse. Like, at all. And she's pretty sure after the stunt he played earlier, Brittany doesn't want to talk about him. But the question still comes out and Brittany looks at her with that _are you reallly talking about him _expression.

"How long has that been?"

"Um, three years next week, actually."

Santana's eyes almost pop out her head. "Three years? Has it been that long?"

Brittany nods but there's something distant and heavy about the way she does it. Santana squints and picks up on the sadness radiating off her.

"Yeah..." she sighs. "But I don't know anymore."

It's mean, and really _not _what she should be thinking, but inside she celebrates a little at the doubt clear in the other girls voice. She'd never say how good it fees to hear that uncertainty though; she's not insensitive nor is she a bitch.

So, instead, she goes for the dumb approach. Even though it's not that much better than a lack of sensitivity. "Know about what?"

"Jesse," the blonde girl replies, nervously. "We've been together since we were fifteen and I..." she trails off and blue eyes drop to the roof where she traces one finger around the edge of a tile.

Santana stays quiet, unsure of how to have a heart to heart with someone. Sure, she's watched movies where girls have intimate little chats, but they never had the part where one of the girls is head over heels in love with another one and so she doesn't really know where to go or what to do from here.

"I just don't really feel it with him anymore," Brittany glances up and looks Santana straight in the eye, expression dropping. "You know?"

_No. _Santana wants to reply. _No, I don't know. _Because there's no way she possibly can. For her entire life she's been head over heels in love with this girl, and that love has never been returned.

And even though there's this thing between them, that's recently developed admittedly, it's clearly not strong enough to bring them together. Nor is it strong enough to make Brittany fall in love with her. Girls like Brittany just don't fall in love with girls like Santana. They're at two ends of the same scale.

Despite knowing that though, Santana still clings onto the shrinking hope that maybe, just maybe, the world will start spinning the other way around and things will change in Santana's favor. Except that stupid little grip that keeps her clinging on means she's not able to feel anything for anyone else. It's like the feelings she has for Brittany have overpowered her ability to date anyone else because for Santana? Brittany's _it._

She can't exactly tell the other girl that though, and so she has to play it dumb again. "Feel what?"

Brittany turns her vision towards her and their eyes lock. "That thing–that click that happens between two people. It's a connection," she explains and Santana's breathing gets heavier. "It's a connection that two people have, and no matter how much they try to avoid it they can't because eventually fate will intervene and they'll end up together."

Santana swallows, and pokes her tongue out to wet her lips. There's this funny tugging in the back of her mind that makes her feel like they're not talking about Brittany's relationship with Jesse anymore.

The blonde girl shuffles closer and twists her body slightly, her body language radiating positivity towards Santana.

"It's that thing that keeps two people attracted to each other. It's the thing that makes them want to know more and to have more with the other person," Brittany's voice drops and her eyes go with it, focusing on the lower half of Santana's face. "And I just want a person like that, you know?" Her eyes dart back up. "Someone that's scared of losing me... and loves me for who I am."

Their eyes stay locked the entire time Brittany speaks and Santana can feel her pulse picking up. She can feel the way heat is creeping around her collar and how her eyes are picking up on every little detail on the girl's face.

Brittany has 152 eyelashes and there's a light dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose, merging onto her cheeks a little. Her eyes have 7 silver specks darted around the pupil, and the breath catches in Santana's throat as she actually _watches _blue eyes darken.

They stay like that for a few minutes, even after the silence settles in and Santana knows this is the part in one of those lame romance movies- where she's supposed to lean forward and press their lips together and _fuck, _she wishes she could.

Those lips look so fucking soft and there have been countless times where she's imagined kissing them, but there's always been something in the way. Even in her damn dreams something always cuts her off because they kiss.

And after a while, she just has to face the fact that things don't always work out the way she wants them too. No amount of superpowers can change that – not unless she developed the ability to manipulate people's feelings – and so there's a point where she's just got to give up.

Letting out a sigh, Santana reels back slowly and faces out into the distance again, breaking their trance. "Yeah. I know what you mean. But sometimes things don't happen like that, I guess."

She's speaking from experience, and she's pretty sure Brittany picks up on it because the girl tilts her head to the side and squints a little. "There's no-one in your life like that for you?"

Santana wants to say yes, because there is a _someone _in her life. But not a someone that she's ever had 'that click' with. _Well, _not a person that's ever felt the click back.

Instead, she shakes her head and presses her lips together, speaking lowly through them.

"I'm not exactly..." she hesitates and tries to find the right words. "_Dating material,_" she lands on, and knows that she's speaking in more than one way.

No-one wants to date someone with superpowers anyway. They'd run the risk of getting their head blown off during a cuddle session because Santana couldn't contain her happiness and couldn't get a hold on her those stupid heat rays that come out her eyes spontaneously.

A hand presses against her forearm, soft and warm. "That's not true," Brittany murmurs, looking up through her eyelashes. "You could be if you gave it a chance."

"I'm..." Santana chews on her bottom lip and tries to figure out a way to explain her feelings on the difficulties she knows she'd have in a relationship without revealing her alter-ego and powers. "I'm-I'm not exactly normal."

Brittany's head whips round _so _fast, and for a second Santana thinks she's said something wrong. Blue eyes narrow and examine her with an intensity she can't describe, and heat blossoms across her cheeks because she doesn't know what she's said wrong.

"What?"

"Uh, nothing," the blonde girl stutters and closes her eyes, shaking her head from side to side to get rid of the expression on her face and probably, the thoughts from her mind. "I just thought–You sounded like... No. Don't worry. It's nothing."

It's when she's staring at Brittany, pulling her brows together and trying to figure out why there's this sudden weirdness that it hits her.

_Shit._

That night she rescued Brittany.

She said those words exactly and now there's a flash of recognition passing over blue eyes as she stares at her and _fuck, _Santana needs to get out of here before she screws up any further.

"I should probably be going to bed." It's lame, and she knows it, but it's the only excuse that pops into her mind. "It's late, and your mom's probably wondering where you are too, so..."

Brittany hesitates, but doesn't press the matter and climbs to her feet, dusting off her butt. "Yeah, sure."

Santana realizes after a long minute of them both standing there that she helped the girl get up here and so she'll have to help her get down and moves to the edge of the roof, where Brittany turns to her and begins to sit down so her legs dangle off the edge.

Reaching for her hand, Santana ducks into a crouch and wraps one hand around a slender wrist, whilst the other grabs a firm hold of a pale hand and the same damn sparks shoot up her arm and warm her heart. Touching the girl has seems to always have this effect on her and she'll wonder if it'll ever stop.

She's so caught up in her thoughts and the feel of Brittany's palm pressed against hers that she doesn't realize she's lowered the girl to the ground completely without any aid of the rickety trellis, and that wide blue eyes are staring up at her.

"You're freakishly strong," Brittany blurts out and Santana's wrenched from her daze.

"What?"

"You're really strong. Like, really strong," the blonde repeats, eyes flicking between the floor and the roof and it takes a second, but then Santana gets it and inwardly high fives herself in the face. So much for not screwing this up further.

What normal eighteen year old chick can lower a 100 pound chick to the ground from a damn roof without any help?

"It's all in the vegetables," she jokes and straightens up, smiling down at the other girl. She really hopes she passed that one off.

Brittany nods along but there's still that ounce of suspicion in her features. "There's something about you, Santana. Something I can't quite put my finger on."

"You're not the first person to say that," she mumbles, mostly to herself, but Brittany still hears.

"Which means I won't be the last."

Santana sucks in her lips. "Guess not. But most people just find out in the end the only 'something' about me is the extra dose of nerd I carry around with me, you know, just in case."

Brittany smiles up at her softly and shoves her hands inside the pockets of her – _no, _wait. _Santana's – _hoodie and it sends chills up her spine.

Brittany looks _really _good in that hoodie.

The blonde girl begins to walk backwards, and only break their eye contact when she has to turn and duck through the hole in the fence, but she regains it once more when she's standing up straight and walking backwards towards her house.

"Just in case, huh?"

"Yep," she agrees. "Just in case I don't quite nerd myself up enough."

The smile on Brittany's face grows and it makes her so damn beautiful that Santana actually finds herself tilting her head to the side to admire it. A small chuckle flows to her ears and it comes to her attention that she's been caught staring and a light blush covers her cheeks.

Thank the Lord they're covered by the darkness of the night otherwise this situation would be _really _embarrassing.

"Night, Santana," Brittany says and the way her name rolls of her tongue still seems to make Santana's stomach flip and flop uncontrollably. "I'll see you at school,"

"Yeah. See you soon," she utters back and heads back over to her bedroom window, unlatching it and putting one foot inside whilst Brittany arrives at the front door of her house and opens the screen door.

They keep eye contact for thirty six seconds before they both head inside with large grins on their faces.

(Neither of them know that, though.)

* * *

Monday comes and Santana heads into school as normal, catches up with Quinn and they check over their answers for the algebra assignment.

She did send it over on Friday night, but apparently Quinn's e-mail was messing up and so they're just going through it again. Just in case.

(Nerds, remember?)

They head to the library, set their bags on one of the tables and begin to unpack. It's about five minutes in, where Santana's moving over to a computer and switching it on that she notices her hands are shaking.

It's happened before, so she's not to worried, but it's never happened in school and Quinn will know something's up if she starts throwing two ton cars around – 'cause that's the only way she can get them to stop unless they just _do_.

Anyway, she stretches her arms and the shaking stops a little. She relaxes a little after that, and returns to logging into her school account and opening up her e-mail to find a few more assignments sent to her by Mr. Grant.

Sometimes she wishes she wasn't a nerd. Teachers always seem to put her in higher classes and send her extra work even though most of the time, the work doesn't come with extra credit.

She does it anyway though, and the shakes don't come back for a good hour.

* * *

By the time they get to lunch time, Santana finds her fists shaking uncontrollably.

An hour after switching on her computer at the library, they began again and they've only developed since then.

Second and third period were interesting, because she had to somehow write an essay with hands that just wouldn't stop shaking, and eventually she just gave up and scowled at the paper for the rest of the teaching hour.

Fair to say she probably got a C on that paper. The least she's ever gotten.

But anyway, she and Quinn get to the cafeteria and Santana gets halfway through her sandwich before the shaking gets too much.

Hazel eyes slide in her direction, and she instantly balls her fists and shoves them underneath the table, concealing the way her fists are moving furiously against her knee caps. A perfectly shaped eyebrow raises and Quinn's eyes dart down to where Santana's arms are hidden beneath the lip of the table top.

"You okay?"

Santana clenches her jaw and tenses her bicep muscles to calm her hands down. "Yep," she retorts, a little sharply. "Just fine."

Quinn stares at her for a long moment but says nothing more and returns to her mushroom pasta. Santana for her part focuses entirely on her hands, and begins to feel the first sparks of panic as she realizes that this is the longest the shakes have ever gone on for.

Usually they last for half an hour tops, and even when that one time, they lasted for an hour, she headed over to Holly's place and began freaking out, only for Holly to tell her that it's usual for mutants to get the shakes sometimes. It's usually due to built up pressure inside of her and so she should go and train to release some of it.

The cause of the pressure is unknown, Holly told her, but training would definitely help her; and so Santana just used to do that.

But she's never had one of these shaking attacks inside of school.

She's got a good four periods of school left, and so she doesn't really just want to just cut out and leave; but this getting a little too much.

Santana stands from the table abruptly, shoving her balled fists deep inside her jeans to hide the way they're shaking and looks down at Quinn. "I've gotta go."

"What? Why?"

She looks around like an excuse will be written in the air. "Not feeling great," she says, and almost rolls her eyes at how lame that sounds. She should really come up with better excuses. "So I'm just gonna head home."

Quinn stares at her like she's trying to figure out the real reason, but luckily they've only known each other for a few days and so it's not like the blonde girl can call her out on the fact she would _never _usually miss school.

The only time she ever has was last year in Winter when training didn't go to well and she slipped on ice – seriously, she's _so _clumsy for a girl with super powers – and dropped a four ton truck on herself, cracking three of her ribs and fracturing her wrist.

Even with super speedy healing powers that took a while to heal and her abuela insisted she stayed home to let her body fix herself.

"Okay then," the other girl says. "I'll guess I'll see you tomorrow if you're feeling better."

Santana smiles gratefully. "Thanks, Q. Bye," she says and ducks to sweep up her bag before making a hasty exit.

* * *

**Thank you for all your comments and reviews! I read every single one and take them into consideration! Keep 'em coming :)**


	7. Part Seven: Rules Of Being A Superhuman

**Title: **A Whole New World (With You) [Part Seven]  
**Rating:** R (for now)  
**Length: **5000

**Notes: **Hope everyone is having fun reading this so far!

* * *

It's so invigorating to know that she's at least twenty or so miles away from civilization.

She only found this warehouse on a whim – she was out flying, heading for a place Google Maps found her when she spotted this place – but it's quite possibly the best find she's had in a while.

The warehouse isn't huge, in fact, it's more like a barn than a warehouse, but it's got plenty of what Santana likes to call 'toys' inside.

The walls are covered in decaying paint, there probably used to be an upper level but it looks like the floor caved in at some point so now it's just one conjoined room, and the majority of the windows are broken.

The toys she's referring to are mostly broken down vehicle parts like an 18-wheeler cab and a few truck engines, but there's also a few metal beams that look like they once held up something – the upper level, perhaps? – and Santana grins when her eyes land on them. They're perfect punching bags.

See, being super-strong and everything definitely has it perks. But when she wants to let out a little frustration by kicking the crap out of something, the options of what that something is, are usually very few. Once she tried to use an airplane she found on an abandoned airstrip as a punching bag, because it was made from titanium and every other metal she'd punched had just crumbled beneath her touch, but that resulted in a near compound fracture of the wrist and several definite broken metatarsals.

_Ouch._

So now she tries to avoid vehicles made from titanium. Saves a painful three hours of super-fast healing.

That also means that when she finds a place like this, full of these 'toys' and training equipment, she's basically over the freaking moon. Because not only does it mean she'll be able to practice her very own version of Kung Fu, but she gets to do some strength training, too. Most of the time she spends her training times on cardio, so this will be a nice break.

Making her way over to the 18-wheeler cab, Santana limbers up with a few lunges, some arm stretches and a couple of star jumps. Her gym teacher actually told her once that star jumps were the best type of warm up, because they work most parts of the body and gets the blood pumping and heart going.

She reaches over and with a little struggle, picks up the 18-wheeler cab and lifts it above her head. Sure, she's strong and all, but even this comes with a little difficulty and it'd be good to gain some strength.

She does a few lifts, inhaling when pushing up and exhaling when dropping down and feels the first rush of adrenaline pulse through her veins. That's one of the best things about training, she thinks, because it gets he pumped for more and more, and this is definitely a place she could let her emotions out on. Emotions about that guy, Russel Fabray and those fluttering ones that she always gets when she's around Brittany. This is her place where she can relieve herself of her days and it's rare that she finds a place quite like this. They only come every now and then, twice every three months, maybe? So she's definitely going to make the best of it.

Another good thing, is that whenever she gets a place like this, because they're so rare she gets to do a small comparison between visits. The last time she found a place like this was four months ago, and back then she couldn't lift a 18-wheeler cab like she's doing now. Easy isn't what she'd describe it as now, mostly because she can feel the muscles in her back and arms straining already, but it's definitely improved.

Although recently, she's beginning to question whether training is a good thing or not.

On one hand, she knows this is good. If Russel Fabray ever got his dirty little hands on her, she could get away. She could use these powers and this strength she's built over months and months of hard, heavy training and escape whatever Russel's doing.

But on the other hand, if there was a slight possibility that Russel had already taken possession of other mutants in the world – with powers Santana knows not of – then she might not be able to escape. She might not be able to and then he'd have a stronger, more advanced mutant in his hands in the form of Santana.

And sure, Russel Fabray might not be as bad as Holly explained. Santana's considered that. He might not actually be doing anything wrong, apart from the fact he's working for Vengeance Corp. But there's something tugging at the back of her mind that says that he's not someone to be trusted. Holly's already shown her that there's plenty of brain-washed mutants with no idea of what Vengeance Corp. do, and they just parade straight into Russel's arms and God only knows what happens to them next.

Santana won't let that happen to her though. She doesn't know what's going on behind-the-scenes at Vengeance Corp, nor does she know why Russel needs to steal mutants DNA or why he's lying to get mutants to come out and go to him, but she won't let it happen to her. She wants to know his angle, almost as badly as Holly does, she thinks, but she can't do that unless she sticks her nose into other people's business and to be honest? She's not sure she wants to run the risk of doing that.

So for now, she'll just keep training and training.

And cling to the hope that she won't be found.

* * *

_Santana wasn't doing much apart from sitting on her butt, munching on a banana and watching the TV when it came on. _

_It was one of those breaking news things that interrupts programs whenever they want, and it bugged her because she was just getting into that Mila Kunis movie but breaking news is 'breaking' news and so she paid attention. _

_The anchor came on screen, a guy in a plain blue suit with silver hair and too-white teeth, and he shuffled his papers around before turning towards the camera with a stern expression._

"The news at 7. The top stories tonight: the man who was born with one ear, can he really sue God? And the fourteen year old flying queen. Is it true that mutants do exist on our planet? Find out more after the weather with Jane Michaels."

_Santana shot up from her seat, eyebrows up by her hairline and jaw slack. Shit. Another mutant came out? What the hell was wrong with these people? Was Santana the only slightly smart mutant? Seriously. It was pretty damn suspicious. Some random guy popped up from nowhere asking for any mutants to come to him and he would offer them help and advice? Nothing comes free in life. There's always a catch. But apparently Santana and Holly were the only ones to see that._

_The weather girl faded off screen with a Cheshire grin on her face and Santana paid attention to the anchor again. He spoke about the guy with one ear – which, yes, Santana did actually laugh a little at – but then he began on the mutant story and every sense she had was locked onto the TV screen._

"Fourteen year old Helena Johnson came out today, revealing the secret she's been holding for years. This young girl, barely through her Freshman year at Christopher Higgin's High school decided it was time to show the world the real her and took to the skies of Boston, unveiling her hidden powers. Luckily enough, Mr. Russel Fabray of Vengeance Corporations – a man who only a few weeks ago, came out himself – was there to help this youngster cope with the psychological and emotional effects of this drastic change and has been taken under his care for now..."

_The rest was lost on Santana. Her mind was boggled and there was a low humming sound in her ears. This couldn't be happening. People were actually buying this crap about 'psychological and emotional effects' bullshit? Santana felt anger fizzle beneath her skin at the thought._

"_Another one out, mija?"_

_Santana let out a small grunt in acknowledgment to her abuelo's words._

"_This is a good thing, Santana. This means you can eventually come out, too."_

_Her head whipped around, and eyes narrowed into a glare. "No, abuelo. I can't come out. This guy_–_Russel Fabray... I mean–Just look at him!" She hissed, gesturing towards the TV sharply where Russel Fabray stepped towards the newest mutant, Helena, and embraced her. She snarled towards the TV, her fists shaking almost uncontrollably on the cushions of the sofa she was sat on. "He's just so fake!"_

_She didn't have to turn around to see her grandfather's quizzical stare. After all, she hadn't told him about what Holly said. That would make him worry, thinking she was out at night whilst this guy was trying to get mutants to come to him for unknown reasons. Unknown most likely dangerous reasons._

"_C'mon, abuelo. Seriously. Don't you think it's the tiniest bit suspicious that this guy comes out of nowhere and asks for these mutants to reveal themselves? Only weeks after revealing himself?" She swallowed the lie on her tongue. If only her grandfather knew Russel Fabray was lying about his mutant DNA. Then he'd be on her side. "Then he just _happens _to take them under his care? Seriously," she huffed and leaned back against the sofa. "Something's going on."_

_Her grandfather stood from his chair, resting his palm on his hip as he hobbled his way towards the kitchen, coffee mug in hand. "Well don't feel pressured to come out, mija."_

_Santana shook her head. She wouldn't be pressured into it. There's no way she would. But there was a pressure on her and it was to find out more about what the hell was going on. Russel Fabray was already winning because of that, and she guessed that's how he lured all the other mutants into showing themselves._

_Ugh, even thinking about it wound her up._

_"I'm going out," she announced, standing abruptly and darting towards the front door in a flash. The only thing that stopped her was her grandfather's voice calling her back._

"_Where are you going?"_

_"I've just gotta get out of here, abuelo," she sighed and focused on not tightening her grip on the door. She didn't feel like coughing up another few hundred dollars to buy another one._

_Her grandfather stepped out into the living room, and she caught him in her peripheral vision. She didn't look at him, though. "You're only as strong as your mind is, Santana," he told her. "So don't push yourself."_

_She managed a small smile and darted towards him, pressing her lips to his wrinkled cheek. "I know, abuelo. Thank you," she whispered, feeling a wave of gratitude for him caring for her. "I'll be back in a few hours."_

_And then she was gone. _

_Leaving the screen door to bang on the door frame as she whooshed off into the night._

* * *

She thinks maybe because after leaving the house that night, she didn't find anywhere to release her anger, that was the main contribution to her uncontrollable shaking fists in the library with Quinn.

The frustration and need for release was still burning through her and she just needed to get it out.

Which is what she's doing right now.

Anchoring her feet to the ground, Santana raises her fists and blocks her face. Her opponent is the metal beam she propped up a minute ago, so it's not like it's going to fight back, but she needs to imagine that it will. Someday, she'll probably come across someone that can get a punch in at her, and she _has _to know how to take it like a man. She needs to know how to fight back after a blow and stand her ground. Sure, the superhuman thing will already give her an advantage, but fighting is something she needs to learn. Especially with Russel Fabray's plans going on around her.

She bounces forward, jabbing the metal with a right hook and feels it bend beneath her knuckles. On the bounce back she ducks and keeps her fists up. That was one of the first things she ever learned during training, back when she used to use an _actual _punchbag, was to move out the way of the return punch. The first time she did it, she hit the punchbag, completely unaware of how hard her punches were and didn't move out the way when it swung back and then towards her speedily. It knocked her off her feet and it just so happened that her flying skills kicked into motion because it send her careering through one of the concrete walls of the boxing gym she was in.

The police assumed it was a break-in. Little did they know a fourteen year old girl with superhuman tendencies was the real cause of the four foot wide hole in the wall.

Santana pushes a lock of hair behind her ear and tilts her neck to the side, cracking it before she makes her next move. A burst of energy later, and she shoots forward, wrapping both arms around the beam and pretending to hold it in a headlock, despite the beam actually being at least three feet taller than her. She releases it quickly, darting over the other side of the warehouse and grabs a hold of a rusting barrel (seriously, what's up with all these barrels in warehouses?) and throws it in the direction of the beam.

It hits it with complete accuracy of course, and she smirks towards herself before jumping into the air and throwing herself forward, the air rushing past her before she comes down on the beam, it snapping beneath the power of legs. Sliding down the broken beam like she would on the banister of a set of stairs, Santana twists and just lets go. She punches. Punches again and again, images of Russel Fabray, Jesse St. James and everything that pisses her off flashing through her mind as the fuel to her punches. She keeps going, delivering sharp jabs left, right and center until the beam is almost unrecognizable and until she can feel blood trickle down her hand from where her knuckles have split.

She keeps going until the once-beam falls to the left, letting the top half slide off and clang to the ground with a heavy sound and until there's a layer of sweat covering her skin, making her hair stick to her forehead. But even then she just moves onto the next thing and zaps to the other side of the warehouse in under a second, grabbing the 18-wheeler cab she was lifting and throwing it towards the other end. The noise is makes when it crashes through the brick wall of the warehouse is like a gunshot to Santana's ears, and she covers them, immediately panicking when her eyes zoom in and land on a few barrels with 'explosive liquid' stickers stuck on the sides, about three seconds away from the flying 18-wheeler cab.

_Shit!_

She stretches out her hand, like it'll take back what she just threw but it's too late. There's a huge explosion and a flash as a ball of fire implodes and takes the form of a small mushroom. Santana doesn't have time to react before she's flying backwards, inwardly yelling at her reactions for not kicking in quick enough and bursts through the brick wall herself. Pain surges through her and she squeezes her eyes shut as she lands and skids along the dirt track, the pieces of gravel ripping through her shirt and nicking at her skin.

Blinking away the pain, Santana lets out a loud groan and clutches at her shoulder, feeling the muscles and bones reject the movement immediately. But it's not over yet and luckily in her peripheral vision she catches the sheet of metal soaring through the air towards before it hits her and forces herself to flip onto her feet, crouching and jumping into the air – high and long enough to miss the cut-throat edges of the metal, but not high enough that she doesn't catch her foot on the tip of the sheet and falls forward, landing face first in the gravel.

Sharp stings prick across her face, but by the time she takes notice of them and pushes her palms to the ground to go onto all fours, they're gone. This super-fast healing thing is _really _helpful sometimes, but it'd be good if it came with some type of anesthetic. Instead of skipping the healing process it just does it really fast, which means all the pain comes at once.

Santana climbs to her feet, moving her jaw around until it clicks and relives some of the pain. She dusts down the front of her pants and groans at the ache radiating through her body. She been through a lot of accidents and injuries, but this was her first explosion and screw going through that one again. At least now she can say she's a real hero. Even if no-one was around to see it.

She glances up when she's finished brushing off her clothing, and her eyes almost pop out her head. Apparently the explosion was bigger than she thought, and she's actually grateful she was thrown from the building because now... Well, there is no building. Just a pile of burning rubble.

"Whoa..." she mutters to herself, eyebrows up by her hairline.

She was inside of that only a minute ago and even though she's pretty sure she's like, invincible or whatever, she knows that she can still be injured and can still break bones, and to be honest she's glad she didn't try out the _what-will-happen-if-a-burning-building-collapses-on-me _test. Not entirely sure if she would've made it out alive.

For several long moments she just stands there, staring at the once-building whilst a plethora of _what ifs _run through her mind, setting a low buzzing in her ears. She can't seem to get it out of her mind that not only could she have been in there, but she freaking _caused _that. Sure, her powers didn't actually create the explosion, but they contributed to it. If she hadn't let her strength run free and hadn't thrown that 18-wheeler cab across the length of the building, it wouldn't have hit the explosive barrel of liquid and wouldn't have, well, exploded.

And that means she wouldn't be out here. Alive and breathing.

She'd still be inside. Trapped. In the middle of nowhere. With no-one knowing where she is and no-one being able to hear her. Not to mention the unknown extent of her injuries.

Shit. She could've died in there.

(If she can even die.

She's still not willing to test that theory, though.)

Letting out a long exhale, she looks towards the ground before taking a seat, planting her feet on the ground and bending her legs at the knee, arms resting on top as her eyes roam over the scene in front of her. And that's when it hits her: she can never lose control. Just imagine what would have happened if someone had been around too, they could've been seriously hurt.

Santana glances away, her thoughts getting too much and balls her fists against her kneecap. She didn't even know she was losing control until it was too late and now look what she's done. Bringing her hands up to her face, she buries into them and lets herself drown in the mixed emotions curdling inside of her. Fear, shame, concern.. All of the above.

Because the first rule of being a superhuman? _Never lose control._

She just broke it.

* * *

"What the hell, Q?" Santana screeches when a pile of hardback books land on her lap; she guesses if she were human it probably would've hurt.

She takes a quick peak around the library but finds no-one's looking at her. _Good. _She wasn't too loud.

Quinn ignores her and slumps down in the chair opposite Santana, doubling over and burying her head into her arms. "Shut up."

"Okay..." she drawls, plucking the books off her lap. "What's wrong with you?"

"My dad."

A perfect eyebrow arches. "What did he do?"

Quinn groans loudly, attracting the attention of the old library assistant and Santana flashes an apologetic smile in return. The blonde sits up, but leans heavily into the back of her chair and hangs her head, shaking it slightly. "He wants me to do something..." she says, almost in a whisper. Santana picks up on the way the girl's hesitating and wonders if she should just change the subject. "And I said I wouldn't do it."

"Right. Not to like, anger you or anything, but why has that made you that damn angry? Did you two have a fight or something?"

Quinn finally looks up and runs her fingers through her short hair exasperatedly. "No. He's just been–he's just been so damn–_fuck. _He's being really weird at the moment," she settles on and Santana can practically feel the heat radiating off the girl.

"Well, why won't you do it? It can't be that bad."

"That's because you don't know what it is," the blonde girl scoffs and shifts forward to lean her elbows on the table, head in her hands.

"Yeah, but he's your dad. It can't be that bad," Santana tries but the other girl still seems doubtful. "I mean, if I still had my parents I'd do whatever they wanted 'cos they wouldn't purposely get me into trouble. Parents don't do that."

Quinn's head snaps up, her eyes growing wider by the second. "You're an _orphan?_"

Shit. She wasn't meant to say that. Santana gulps and hooks a finger into the collar of her shirt, skimming it from side to side to relieve some of the pressure. Is her shirt getting smaller?

"Well yeah. My parents died when I was a kid," she murmurs lowly, hoping the other girl won't ask more about them. The last thing she wants to do is spend a few panicked minutes trying to come up with a lie to replace _'some assholes killed them because they were had superpowers.'_Not sure that'd settle well with Quinn.

And Quinn doesn't. Just tilts her head to the side and worries her bottom lip between her teeth. "Shit, I didn't know. I'm sorry, S."

Santana shrugs and nervously toys with the pencil between both hands. "Don't worry about it. I'm used to it."

"Wait... Who do you live with?"

Seriously. She's regretting being so kind about this. If she'd been upset, angry or hurt she doubts Quinn would be asking questions. She notes that down for future use. "My grandparents."

Quinn's eyebrows raise. "Grandparents? That must be tough."

Santana pulls her lips down at the side and shrugs again. "Not really. I mean, sometimes it's hard but I love them," she answers, honestly. "They took me in when they didn't have too and they treat me like their kid. I kind of owe them big time."

"Yes, they did."

"Did what?"

"They had to take you in."

Santana stills. Crap. Why does she keep screwing up? After a minute or two she sucks in her lips and begins to twirl the pencil again between her fingers. And then a second later, she figures there's no way to get out of this and honestly? Who's Quinn going to tell. She has about as many friends as Santana does so it doesn't matter if she says a little something.

"They didn't, actually. They're not my real grandparents."

Quinn stares at her, eyebrows pulling together in the middle like she just heard Santana speak Japanese. "Who are they then?"

Santana drops her pencil and clears her throat, reaching for the textbook. She's never really ever talked to anyone about her grandparents, apart from Sam – but even then he didn't pry like Quinn's doing – and it's kind of strange. She flips open a textbook, no clue as to what one, and begins to 'read' over the page when really her mind's just going a mile a minute. How is she going to explain this without it seeming weird?

"They–uh, they're friends of my, um, parents," she explains, nervously. Maybe if she just tells the actual story, but leaves out the whole mutant/superpowers thing it won't seem so suspicious. "They were, I mean," she corrects herself and begins to scribble down in her notebook random sentences from he textbook. "They just offered to talk me in after the murder," she shrugs. "It's what my parents wanted."

Quinn begins to do the same, and reaches over to pull the books Santana took off her lap towards her. She skims through a few, nodding whilst silence settles between them but them something clicks and she looks up, head tilted. "Wait... Was your parents death expected?"

"No," Santana answers, quickly. She thinks it might have been a bit _too _quickly. "But, you know, they just wanted to make sure if anything _did _happen, I was in safe hands. So, yeah."

Quinn narrows her eyes. "Sounds kind of weird."

"I know, but my abuelos are incredible to me," she replies and knows she's not even lying. "So can't really complain."

Quinn stares at her for a long moment like she wants more information, but just ends up smiling and turns her attention to her textbook.

* * *

Santana goes training the following night and focuses on controlling herself. It's pretty hard work but when is it ever not? Being a mutant isn't all what it's made up to be. You've gotta learn how to control your powers and that only comes with practice.

Anyway, she comes back a little later than usual – midnight, she notes – and drops down into the tree in her backyard as per usual. Because she's so tired, she doesn't land with that much precision and ends up slipping off one of the branches, catching her elbow on the bark of the trunk and creating a three inch gash running from the tip of her elbow to mid-forearm. _Crap. _She may have healing powers but scars are still scars.

Groaning and feeling her skin piece itself together again, Santana jumps from the tree and lands in a crouch, hands pressed to the dew covered grass. She's about to stand when she hears a heartbeat and whips her head around, finding a smirking blonde leaning on the fence about two meters away from her. _Double crap._

"So, you climb trees at midnight?"

Santana begins to panic. Her eyes grow wide and she looks back towards the tree, then up at the sky and chews on her bottom lip. Did Brittany see her flying? Shit. "Uh... Did you–I mean, how long have you been standing–"

"Only just got here," the blonde girl cuts in, the smirk growing on her face. "Walked in when I heard you swearing."

Santana squints. Did she swear? "Oh, right. Yeah, sorry," she stutters and tells herself to stop fidgeting. That'll just make the other girl even more suspicious. "Yes. I do." Brittany seems quizzical so Santana elaborates. "Climb trees at midnight," she shrugs. "It's a hobby."

If Brittany didn't think she was lame before, now she's _definitely _thinking that.

The blonde smirks though, and slowly tilts her head to the side. Her eyes are blue and piercing and she's staring so much it's like she's trying to read a 6th graders book when she's only at 2nd grade herself. Santana almost smirks herself at the ability to be unreadable. If that's even a word.

"At midnight?" Brittany presses, suspicion clearly growing in her expression.

And then the response comes so easily to Santana she actually grins, and all panicked feelings disappear from her body. This is slowly turning into a game of who can trip up first. "Well _you _are the one standing in your backyard watching me climb trees at midnight."

It takes four and a half seconds, but then Brittany's smirk fades into a knowing grin and she begins to shake her head, stepping away from the fence and sucking in one side of her mouth like she knows she's just been owned. Santana just continues to smirk and watches as the other girl begins to move towards the backdoor of her house, eyes still completely trained on Santana.

"Touche, Lopez," Brittany says, almost in a shout because she's so far away. "Touche."

Santana grins widely and feels her heart flutter inside her chest as Brittany flashes one last grin before disappearing inside.

And Santana has to admit, she thinks she's going to like this little game they're playing.

* * *

**Enjoy it?**


	8. Part Eight: Not A Second Choice

**Title: **A Whole New World (With You) [Part Eight]  
**Rating:** R (for now)  
**Length: **5200

**Notes: **Thanks for all the reviews guys! They're awesome!

* * *

It's almost surreal how quickly Santana's grown to like Quinn.

Truth be told she rarely ever likes anyone.

Obviously there's a few exceptions: Brittany, Sam, Mercedes etc. but that's pretty much it. Being at the bottom of the social pile has made her like this, and it's not like she _can't _talk to new people because she can, she just doesn't want to.

It's just that there's this growing suspicion that she'll get close to someone and they'll turn around and screw her over; she guesses it's an insecurity thing but it protects her so whatever.

But then there's Quinn, and she's so straight forward thinking and upfront that Santana can't help but like her. In some ways they're unbelievably alike, but in other ways they have _so _many differences and it makes them clash. She thinks that's what makes them get along so well.

Don't get her wrong, they definitely have things that they enjoy doing together, like reading comics (yes, stereotypical for nerds but Santana likes Catwoman, okay?) and playing video games. They both laugh at the same things, and one moment they could be cracking up and the next they could be arguing, fists pounding against the table about who's hotter: Scarlett Johansson playing _Black Widow_ in _The Avengers_ or Anne Hathaway playing Catwoman in _The Dark Night Rises. _

And sure, Quinn may not play for the same team as Santana, but she definitely knows a woman when she sees one. Girl hasn't got bad taste. Another thing that contributes to their evolving friendship.

The only slightly off thing about Quinn though, is that she never really seems to mention her family. There was that one time where she mentioned her dad, but even then she was pretty closed off and switched the conversation onto Santana's family instead. It's pretty strange, because usually there's some type of mention about them in one story at some point, but now it's got to the point where Santana doesn't want to pry, fearing there's something dark in Quinn's past that makes her not want to talk about it. So Santana just doesn't ask.

But anyway, it's a Saturday and they're down at the park. Santana decided she wanted to shoot some hoops but due to Quinn's more than disgusted expression when Santana asked her to join, she's playing alone. Quinn's still there though; sitting beneath the hoop with her legs stretched out in front of her, crossed at the ankle and reading a book that's open across her lap. They've only been here for twenty minutes or so, but Quinn hasn't stopped refusing to shoot at least _one_hoop.

"Come on, Q," Santana presses on, rocking onto the balls of her feet and jumping lightly as she throws the ball. It lands in the hoop with complete accuracy and Santana smirks. Quinn just stares at her like she turned into Michael Jordan before her very eyes. "It's not exactly hard."

Quinn averts her gaze back to her book, clearly uninterested in the sport. "You're supposed to be a nerd, Santana," she says and brown eyes roll. "You're supposed to read books and play computer games and discuss the differences between C3-PO and R2D2 as androids," she glances up to meet Santana's gaze. "Not parade around in a sports bra showing abs that someone like you really shouldn't have, whilst playing a guy's sport."

"It's not a guy's sport," Santana hisses back, bouncing the ball with her right hand and switching her leg over her hand. "And who says I can't have abs?"

"Nerds are either flabby or weirdly skinny. It's like, in the rules of being a nerd or something."

Santana glares at the girl. "Well you're not one of them, either."

"I'm not a nerd," Quinn replies, shrugging whilst her eyes skim over the page of her book.

Santana scoffs loudly and lightly jogs towards the ball which is rolling away. She bends down to pick it up and spins around, beginning to dribble the ball between her legs, weaving it in and out. "You're reading a book, Q. You voluntarily read comic books and play video games," she pants a little and raises her arm in the air, one hand cradling the ball and the other pressed to the side. She lets the ball roll off her fingertips and applies the lightest of pressures to shoot it into the basket where it lands perfectly. "So yes, you are _totally_a nerd."

Hazel eyes flash to her in a glare. "I'm just intellectual."

"A nerd," she grins.

"Just smart," Quinn tries.

"A nerd."

Quinn's eyes are hard as they stare at her, and Santana smirks at her, not willing to give in to the glare. She's the one that's right, anyway. "I'm–I'm just..." Quinn stammers, trying to find another excuse but breathes out and rolls her eyes when Santana quirks a brow with a _you know I'm right _look. "I prefer the term _dork, _actually."

Santana laughs heartily and begins shooting hoops again, putting in a few trick shots here and there to spice up the game she's playing alone. This game is pretty much a walk in the park for her. She's nailed the amount of pressure to put into the shot to get it in the basket perfectly, and truth be told she could do it with her eyes closed. Apparently mad basketball skills come with mutant DNA.

She's halfway through a jump shot when something catches her eye. She twists her head, eyes darting to the entrance to the park where she a group of five girls walking into the park, wearing rather short shorts and skimpy little tops. That's not what catches her eye, though. The girl at the front of the group does. She has legs that stretch on for days, her skin is smooth, her hair is golden and Santana swears to the heavens that it's freaking _glimmering _in the sunlight.

And then the girl glances towards Santana and it rips the breath straight from her throat. She chokes unattractively and staggers forward, the basketball missing the hoop completely and somewhere in the background she hears Quinn's chuckle. And she makes sure to catch herself before she completely falls over because _of course, _of-_fucking-_course Brittany would have to come to the park at the same time Santana's here and of-_fucking-_course Santana would have to get so distracted she missed her first shot and then trip over something invisible on the ground.

The world just wouldn't be right if Santana wasn't _somehow _embarrassed right in front of the love of her life, would it?

"Smooth, Santana," Quinn teases and Santana whips her head around, narrowing her eyes at the girl.

"Shut up," she spits, rubbing the back of her neck. "A bug distracted me."

Quinn smirks at her but promptly returns to her book. It's quiet for a long moment until Quinn's phone buzzes and Santana glances at her to see her friend's brow furrow. She gets suspicious. "Who's that?"

"My dad," Quinn sighs.

"What does he want?"

"Nothing," her friend says, quickly typing back on her phone then throwing it down next to her. She puts on a smile – a really, _really _fake smile – and return to smirking at Santana, her hazel eyes flicking over to the entrance of the park. "So, Brittany, huh?"

Santana's eyes subconsciously flicker in Brittany's direction, and surely enough blue eyes are staring straight at her. Her eyes grow wide and she coughs to cover up the way heat floods to her cheeks."Uh, no. I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, come _on._"

She remains stubborn and lifts her chin high. "Seriously. No idea."

The book on her friend's lap shuts loudly and she turns to Quinn to find her glaring _again._

"Really? You're going to play that card? You can't even stop looking at her," the blonde points out, and Santana forces her eyes away from Brittany's direction. Crap. When did they even drift over there?

"I can too," she says, emphasizing her point by staring Quinn straight in the eye. "See?"

"Well good to know 'cos she's coming over."

Santana pulls her eyebrows together. "Why is that good to–wait, WHAT?" She half-yells before hearing footsteps behind her and a soft _"hey, Santana" _following it. She spins on the ball of her foot, and twiddles her fingers in front of her, trying to play it cool even though she's failing miserably.

"Oh hey, Britt," Quinn chimes in, grinning widely at Santana.

Brittany's holding the basketball in her hand, rolling it about between her palms and grinning. "Hey, Quinn," she answers then turns to Santana. "I didn't know you played basketball."

Santana gulps nervously and looks over her shoulder to Quinn who's now 'reading.' What a bitch. "Uhm–yeah. Not all the time but yeah it's a good sport. Keeps me fit and it's fun. So yes. Sometimes, I play..." she hangs on the last word, realizing she's rambling because Brittany's smirking at her and clears her throat. "Yes. Basically, I play."

Brittany giggles and Santana feels her stomach flip uncontrollably. She just made Brittany fucking _giggle _and it's making her feel weirdly good. Shit, she has such a stupidly big crush on this girl.

"Sorry to exuse your little conversation," Quinn's voice cuts in and Santana clenches her jaw, biting back the urge to tell her friend that if she's that sorry she should just butt out again. "But I've actually got to head home," Quinn turns pointedly to Santana and directs it at her.

"Oh, no. Sorry," Brittany apologizes, eyes widening a little. Her heart also falters a little and Santana cocks her head to the side, wondering if she misheard it. "I didn't mean to interrupt you two if you were..." she trails off and leaves the rest up for interpretation.

"Ew!"

"Gross."

"No," Santana continues, waving her hands and pushing at Quinn's arm. "Definitely not. Quinn's just–_ew. _She's my friend."

"Yeah," her friend agrees. "Definitely not," she seems equally disgusted as Santana. "Santana's nice and all but I'm into dick. You know, guys and such." She suddenly snaps her head towards Santana and there's a slight glint to her eye that gets Santana panicking and her heart racing. Fuck. What's she going to say? "Unlike little Lopez, here," Quinn nudges at Santana's shoulder and Santana swears she could just die right then and there. "She's all about the girls."

Brittany frowns for a split second before her eyes widen in realization. A range of emotions flash across her face and her eyes dart between Quinn and Santana, like she's trying to figure out whether she's got it right or not. Out the corner of her eye, Santana catches the way Quinn nods subtly like she's confirming the silent question and she swears that she saw Brittany's lips curl up at the side.

"Oh, right. Awesome," Brittany beams and rocks onto the balls of her feet.

Quinn grins at Santana but all Santana wants to do is slap the girl one. Not exactly the way she wanted to come out to Brittany but whatever.

"Right, well, I'll leave you to to whatever..." Quinn waves her hands around in the space between Santana and Brittany. "_This _is." She walks away and picks up her bag, throwing a wink over her shoulder when Brittany's not looking. "Bye Brittany!"

Santana notes to kick Quinn's ass next time she sees her but quickly returns her attention to the situation she's in. Brittany's smiling down at her when she turns back and Santana ducks her head, scratching her eyebrow to hide the blush she can feel creeping across her cheeks. She's seriously got to stop doing that.

"So," she coughs and straightens her back. "What's up?"

It's lame and she almost rolls her eyes at it. '_What's up?'_ _Seriously? _She might as well have put 'doc' onto the end and become fucking Bugs Bunny. _So _lame.

"I just came to say hello." Brittany looks up through thick lashes. "Is that okay?"

Santana swallows and manages a smile. _Yes. _That's more than okay. But apparently she can't say it since her vocal chords and mouth are having a little disagreement at the moment. Just fantastic.

"Good. I was a little nervous coming to talk to you."

Brown eyes widen considerably so. "_You _were nervous?" She repeats, not believing the other girls words. "Why would _you_be nervous talking to... Me?"

"I don't know," Brittany shrugs. "I mean, you were with your friend and we never really talk or see each other outside school and our front–or sometimes back–yards," her eyes twinkle and Santana thinks she's remembering the other night where she caught Santana 'climbing trees.' "So I didn't know if it was okay to talk to you."

"Of course it is," Santana almost snaps and presses her lips together, inwardly scolding herself for being so insistent. _Just fucking chill, Lopez, _she tells herself. "I mean–yeah it's cool."

"Awesome. I mean, there's also the fact that I never see you out anywhere, too."

"You see me after work," Santana defends.

Brittany smiles, softly. "I meant in the day time. Like, out of school. I never see you."

And Santana frowns a little. Even Brittany notices she doesn't have a life. This day is just getting better and better. "Yeah..." she agrees and rubs the back of her neck again, eyes drifting down to the ball still in Brittany's hands. "I'm pretty busy, usually, so."

Blue eyes roam around her face in the same way they did they other night, like a 6th grade book trying to be read by a 2nd grader, and Santana, unlike the other night, she doesn't feel so good about this stare. It's worming it's way underneath her skin and making her feel all kinds of vulnerable. And having superpowers means that's usually avoided, so this is really strange and _not _in a good way.

"Yeah, of course," Brittany peers over her shoulder and Santana looks past the girl to see her friends waving her over. "Look, I've gotta get back to my friends, but I'll catch you later?"

There's hope in her tone and it's unavoidable to Santana's ears, so she can do nothing but nod. Does that mean Brittany wants to see her later? Or is she just over thinking this and that's just another thing someone says? _Damn. _Why is she so socially untrained?

"Sure. Bye."

Brittany grins at her then reaches over, pressing the ball gently into Santana's stomach and waiting for her to take it. It takes a moment to kick her brain into gear, but then she places her hands on either side of the basketball and gasps when their fingertips brush. Brittany plays it cool though and shoots her a wink, rubbing her forearm briefly then starting in a slow jog back towards her friends.

...And Santana forgets how to breathe.

* * *

There's no-one around and it's a little after one in the morning when Santana gets back from training.

Due to the little 'incident' the other night – which she's yet to hear anything about on the news so that's good – she's had to explore a variety of different equipment and find some that won't encourage her to lose control and won't make her end up with another pile of rubble which was once a warehouse. It means she has to stay out longer, but she's told her grandparents and they were okay with it; especially because since that fourteen year old girl Helena whats-her-face revealed her flying ability, another three mutants have stepped out of the shadow and has been taken under Russel Fabray's 'care' – whatever that may be.

But it's still a strain on Santana. She's had to head further away from the city, train harder, stay out later and _still _go to school the next day, attend all her classes and keep up her 4.2 GPA. She'll do what she has to though to make sure she and everyone she loves keeps safe.

Anyway, it's a nice night, it's in the early hours of the morning, there's snoring noises coming from the majority of the houses and so Santana decides to land smack bang in the center of the road, hovering down until her toes hit the pavement. Everyone's asleep and it'd be nice to not have to jump out a damn tree for once, and take her time getting home. She's up anyway and half an hour extra sleep won't help her that much more, so she's going to walk home and stare at the stars whilst she's at it.

* * *

By the time her house comes into human sight, it's around two. The moon is beaming down and there's barely any clouds in the sky to cover it, or the stars, and to be honest, it just looks really fucking beautiful. She wanders down the middle of the road, a duffel bag slung over her shoulder, feet following the painted lines and head tilted back, eyes firmly locked on the moon.

But that's all interrupted by the steady beat of someones heart. Someones heart that _isn't _Santana's.

She pauses mid-step, eyes shifting around until she zooms into the house next to hers and finds Brittany sitting on the curb, arms wrapped around her own body and knees tucked to her chest. It also strikes Santana's notice that the girl's wearing _her _hoodie, the one from the other night, and she can't help but smile idiotically.

Blue eyes flicker in her direction, and a warm smile crosses Brittany's face as their eyes lock. Santana heads towards the girl, shifting the bag further up her shoulder and when she gets there she can't help but ask, "What are you doing out here?"

Brittany rolls her shoulders in a half-shrug. "It's a nice night."

She has a point. That's the same reason Santana walked home and was wandering down the middle of the street, gazing at the stars and finding them so fascinating if anyone had seen her, they'd probably think she had just smoked a bit of green.

But that's not what she meant. Not really.

"I meant, why are you here when you could be like," she licks her lips. "With Jesse up on the hill or something? You get a better view up there."

Brittany turns away, eyes dropping and Santana instantly recognizes the shift in atmosphere. "Jesse and I broke up," the blonde says, firmly. "Uh, we broke up."

Santana tries not to feel relieved by the news – because _yeah, _thank God Brittany's escaped that douche – and forces a sympathetic expression. "That sucks. I'm sorry."

"You're not sorry."

Santana's caught off guard by the comment. Heat spreads across her cheeks and she clears her throat, blinking rapidly. "Uh, what?"

"You don't think it sucks," Brittany says, strongly, and glances up with blue eyes that are just so... _knowing._

A lie is about to roll off her tongue but then she squints and the truth comes out. "No, I don't. But only because you're too good for him."

Brittany peers up through her lashes, eyebrow raising with the movement. "Oh, yeah?" She begins to stand, but keeps her arms crossed over her body.

"Well, yeah. I mean, he's a douche," Santana explains, her throat drying as the other girl moves closer. Her heart picks up and she swallows, trying to regain some of the saliva she's sure she once had. Maybe not, though. Brittany takes her breath away so taking that away is possible too. "You could do a hell of a lot better than him." She bites down on her bottom lip and says, "You deserve better."

Brittany's so close now. _So _close that Santana feels the air whoosh past her torso when the girl drops her arms and how fingers brush against the hem of her top, just above the waistband of her jeans. Brittany smiles innocently when Santana doesn't move backwards and then shifts forward until she begins to toy with the stitching on Santana's shirt. And Santana is powerless; even if she wanted to move she's not sure she could.

"Do you..." Blue eyes flicker upwards and lock with brown. "Do you have anyone in mind?"

Santana knows what she should answer. She knows she should nod and say _yeah _and then cup the back of Brittany's neck and bring their mouths together. She freaking knows that and she can hear it in the way Brittany's breathing picks up, how her heart's thrumming loudly and how she's rocking onto the balls of her feet slightly, the hope shining through the movement.

But she can't.

Brittany's _just _broken up with Jesse and Santana won't be a rebound. Even if she's wanted this for fifteen years... She won't be a second choice. She just won't.

Fuck, she's going to hate herself tomorrow morning.

So, reluctantly, and that's _very _reluctantly, Santana swallows, shakes her head and steps away from the girl. "No, I don't," she answers. "I've gotta go."

Brittany's face drops and her hands begin to toy with the ends of her own shirt instead of Santana's. But as soon as she pulls the bag further up her shoulder and twists to walk away, she hears Brittany's voice again.

"Where did you go?"

Santana doesn't understand the question and looks over her shoulder at the girl. "What?"

"Tonight," Brittany elaborates. "Where were you?"

Her mouth drops open to spill the same old lie about working when Brittany shakes her head, sensing the lie before it comes and cuts her off.

"And don't say the cafe because I stopped there after work and you don't have a shift until tomorrow."

That peaks Santana's interest and she cocks her head to the side, turning around. "Are you checking up on me?" Brittany smirks but shakes her head. Something sinks inside of Santana's stomach. She kind of liked the idea that the other girl was looking out for her. "Seems like you are."

Brittany shrugs, crossing her arms over her chest. "I went in there for a coffee after work. Needed a pick-me-up."

"Right," Santana squints, mirroring the other girls position. "Well, I just... I go out."

"With who?" The blonde takes a step closer and bites on her bottom lip, her cat-like eyes narrowing considerably so like she knows she's about to catch Santana out on something. But Santana remains where she is, keep a straight face and just listens.

"You're not really that close to anyone in school apart from Quinn. I've seen you talk to Mercedes in gym class but that's the only time and I know Sam left last year. You never have anyone round your house, either which makes me think you don't have a lot, if any, outside of school friends," she points out and Santana swallows. This girl's good. "So who d'you go out with?"

"How do you know I don't go out with Quinn?" Santana counters, lifting her right eyebrow.

"Because I talk to her in gym class and her dad doesn't let her go out with anyone from school. Says it's dangerous."

_Fuck_. That's Santana's cover blown.

She pushes her shoulders back and tilts her chin up, chewing the inside of her mouth. She can hear Brittany's ragged breath and the way her heart's beating just that little bit faster than it usually should. She can hear the way the air moistens in front of Brittany when she licks her lips, and how a handful of gravel rolls beneath foot when she takes a step closer. And Santana just stares. It's strangely fascinating and she's unwilling to speak because right now there's not a lot she can say that Brittany won't catch her out on.

Maybe she'll just go with the truth. _Well, _a twisted version of the truth.

"So?" Brittany presses on and her head tilts to the side, blue eyes growing darker and more curious by the second. "If you don't go out and you don't see Quinn, Mercedes and definitely not Sam considering he's a good four hours away... Where do you go?"

Santana jerks her head back a little. How does the girl even know this? "Have you been stalking me?" She asks, a playful tone to her voice, even though she's like, pretty serious.

"Not stalking, exactly..." The blonde trails off, eyes drifting up towards the sky before coming back down and locking with Santana's. "Watching, perhaps."

She grins because she can't help it. Brittany's been paying attention to her. That can't be a bad thing. Although now her mood's lifted now, she feels like she has to give some kind of explanation as to where she's been going all these nights. There's also that little part in the back of her mind that knows Brittany's only going to press on until she gets some type of answer, so Santana's got to give the girl something. Can't have anyone snooping around her business; that's how the beginning of the end started for her parents.

"I train a lot," she finally answers. It's a reasonably good explanation since Brittany saw her playing basketball earlier in a sports bra that showed abs that only comes with_ a lot _of exercise.

"Train for what?"

"Just train for life. I do karate and general body fitness."

Brittany grins and runs her tongue along her teeth. "Maybe you could take me with you one day to watch?"

And then the playful atmosphere sinks and so does Santana's expression. Images of Brittany watching her ruthlessly train inside an empty warehouse, throwing around ten ton lorry parts and heavy metal beams floods through her mind and suddenly she panics. What if she loses control whilst Brittany's around?

The explosion in the warehouse was lucky, only because Santana got out without any major harm, but who says that would happen again? What if the adrenaline pumps through her veins one day and Brittany's in front of her, and Santana just loses it? She's still young. She's still learning to control her powers and yes, she's gained more control than the newbies that are coming out so she wouldn't be as powerful as they are – because newer powers are at their most powerful and more raw – she could still do some serious damage.

Wait a second...

Her eyes pop open and she has something relating to an epiphany. She realizes the truth and everything just clicks into place perfectly. _Of course! _She thinks. All the mutants that are coming out are young. They're all below the ages of 15 and all have very little control over their power; yet their power is still incredible. It's still raw and at it's most uncontrollable, which makes it so dangerous Santana can't even begin to think about what damage those mutants could do if they have what Holly says an 'offensive power.'

Santana remembers the news the other week with that teenager in Boston who could move small objects with his mind, and even though the intricate details of his power are unknown, it only takes a power like that to move a stick of dynamite. There was also that little girl who could create fire in the palm of her hand and add a can of deodorant to that and boom, you have a flamethrower. All these powers which seem little aren't. They can either be trained up or have something added to it and they can be destructive.

Santana shudders at the thought. Maybe _that's _why Russel Fabray's wanting mutants to come out, to use their raw, dangerous powers. But why? There's still no answer to that and Santana's fists clench in frustration.

A hand touches the back of her forearm and she flinches, slowly coming back to reality. Brittany's staring at her with worried eyes and she gulps, blinking rapidly. Shit. That reminds her. She still doesn't have her glasses on. At least she can say she trains without her glasses, that's true. Mostly.

"Uh, no. You can't come with me," she responds to Brittany's question, which she almost forgot to answer. "Private gym. No non-members allowed."

There's a smirk growing on the other girl's lips but her eyes are still shaded with concern. "How convenient," she says, trying to put the playfulness back into the air.

But it doesn't work and now Santana's mind is flashing with images of blonde hair spreading out amongst a pile of rubble, Brittany's winter-paled cheeks covered in dust and dirty and it settles low in her gut, making her stomach churn. That can never happen. And that's just _another reason _why she can never reveal to Brittany who she really is and what she can do.

"I've gotta go. Bye," she announces abruptly and doesn't leave time for Brittany to say goodbye as she jumps over the chain-link fence, feigning the gate because she needs to get away from these images and away from Brittany quickly, and glides in through the front door.

And Brittany can't help but watch in complete awe, but when she twists back to her own house and heads towards it, Brittany can't help but wonder why Santana Lopez is so guarded and mysterious.

The worst part about it, though? She can't even deny that it's not only incredibly alluring, but unbelievably attractive.

She smiles to herself as she walks through the front door and closes it behind her.

* * *

**I know it's going slow but I wrote the chapters how I would have to on LJ which means they're really short and that kinda blows.**

**But it does mean more frequent updates? So I guess that's not too bad, right?**


	9. Part Nine: Must Be A Dream

**Title: **A Whole New World (With You) [Part Nine]**  
Rating: **R (for now)**  
Length: **5700

**Notes: **Thank you so much for all your kind words and reviews and shizz! It's awesome! I thought I'd upload a chapter a day early as the last one was a day late... So yeah, enjoy! :)

* * *

It's 3am. It's late – or early depending on your mindset – and it's probably not the best time to call someone.

Most people are asleep by now, but the thing is Santana _can't _sleep. Not whilst she's had this sudden epiphany and realized that actually Russel Fabray is getting all these young mutants to come out of their shell because of the strength of their power. She's not sure why he's doing it, but that's one of the best things about Holly; she can figure out things without even really talking about them. No wonder she's the most advanced in her field of work.

After wandering back and forth around her room, debating whether it's cruel or not to call Holly at this ridiculous hour, Santana thinks _screw it _and grabs her phone. She punches in the number and brings the phone to her ear, tugging her lower lip between her teeth and tapping her foot along to the dialing tone.

"_Santana? What's wrong? Is everything okay?"_

Santana frowns. Holly doesn't sound even the slightest bit groggy. "Yeah, sorry. I know it's early... Or late," she corrects. "But I need to tell you something."

"_It's fine, chica. I was finishing up some research anyway. Tell me."_

"I was thinking about Russel Fabray and it suddenly hit me," she says, lowering her voice when it gets a little too loud. "What if he wants all the youngest mutants because of their power?" Holly doesn't answer immediately so Santana continues. "What if he's getting all of them to reveal themselves because they don't know any better and because he can use them as his minions?"

There's a moment of hesitation on the other end of the line. "_Younger mutants aren't that strong, Santana. They need years of training to reach their full ability."_

"No, I mean–they're young, Holly; all under fifteen. Their power is raw and so dangerous and for someone as powerful and ruthless as Fabray, that's exactly what he'd look for, isn't it? What if Russel wants them because he's got this unknown master plan and they're young and naïve enough to follow and obey him? Just because he was there for them when they needed him."

"_You know hot lips, you might have a point," _Holly agrees and Santana can hear the smile and relief in her voice. It fades just as quickly as she says, "_We have no way of knowing, though."_

Santana's shoulders sink. Shit. She didn't consider that. "There must be a way. Can't you like–" she tucks one arm underneath the other. "I don't know, snoop around or something?"

"_I can do my best but I doubt I can get any solid evidence."_

"Well it's not like we could do anything even if we had proof of that anyway, so," she sighs, defeated. She thought her epiphany might lead them to something, but apparently not. Aren't people with superpowers supposed to like, save other people who are in danger? Yeah, she's saved Brittany, but that was once and that was because she was at the right place at the right time; avoiding this pretty much means she's like an anti-heroine or something. She sucks at this superhero thing.

"_Don't beat yourself up about it, kiddo. I'll_ _snoop around and do a little research. See if we can find anything about Fabray's plans."_

Santana tries a smile but knows it's pointless. "Okay."

"_I'll call you later this week, sweet cheeks. Give you the update."_

"Thanks, Holly. Bye."

"_Bye."_

The line goes dead and Santana flops onto her bed, trying not to let the frustration get to her. It doesn't work.

* * *

It's funny how life goes sometimes. How it can be completely fine one moment, and then just sink the next. Weird, isn't it? One tiny little thing can just change _everything, _in the blink of an eye, and then suddenly you realize nothing's ever going to be the same ever again.

Yeah. Santana knows that.

Well, she will.

* * *

The day starts off as normal.

Santana goes into school early, meet up with Quinn at the library, does a few assignments for extra credit and you know, has to pay the utmost attention to the sound of a possibly slushy coming her way. It's a standard day really, and she walks home later that day after receiving the almost uninterpretable text from her grandpa, which she managed to translate into saying:

_With your grandma getting some groceries. Will have to walk home today. Sorry mija – Your Abuelo x_

So she walks back, hanging her head and making her way across the parking lot quickly because she definitely wouldn't put it past Puckerman to toss a slushy over her whilst she wasn't around anyone. The guy's a total dick.

She gets home and then heads straight back out again, flying to Alaska and beating her record of seven seconds flight time to five. She trains a little, throws a few Pine trees into the mountains in the distance and wins a wrestling match with a playful brown bear; but it's all fun because the bear does this weirdly adorable yawn halfway through and then wanders off. All in all it's a tiring day and by the time she gets home it's 8pm and her grandfather's there...

...But her grandma isn't.

Shrugging off her jacket, she balls it up and throws it into the wash bin in the kitchen from the living room. Unsurprisingly, it goes straight in, but she can't really focus on that because she's too focused on the fact her grandma isn't here. Her abuelo's are like a pair, where you find one, you find the other.

"Hola, abuelo ¿Dónde está la abuela?"

"Hola," her grandfather replies, turning over the page of the newspaper in hand. It makes a crinkling noise and it punctuates his sentence. "We forgot a few things so she went down to the market on the corner."

Santana steps forward and tilts her head to the side. Something – she doesn't know what – something doesn't feel right. She can feel it in the pit of her stomach, growling and grinding, and she can feel her throat growing thicker. What the hell is going on? "You didn't go with her?"

"No. She insisted I stay and keep an eye on the chicken."

"And she couldn't have stayed while you went to the store?" Santana enquires, licking her lips.

Her grandfather puts down the newspaper and peers over the back of the chair, a concerned expression shrouding his face. "She wanted some fresh air, mija."

Santana swallows and looks around the room; her grandma's shoes, purse and coat have gone but her cane remains propped up in the corner. "How long has she been gone?" She asks, eyes never straying from the wooden stick. "And why didn't she take her cane? She always takes that when she goes out."

"The store is five minutes away, Santana," her abuelo replies, a little exasperated. Santana can tell she's already starting to piss him off by the way his breathing is gradually picking up and the way his blood pulses just that little bit faster around his body. "I told her to take the cane for protection but you know what she's like," he stands from his chair and gravitates towards her, setting a hand on her shoulder until she finally tears her eyes away and makes eye contact with him. "She's fine. If you don't think so then go and find her."

Santana nods, but she's not really in the conversation. She's tuned out, ears perked up and listening to the distant sounds, trying to find her grandma's heartbeat. She's become so accustomed to it over the years she can usually find it within two seconds, but with the irrational surge of fear going through her and that damn low buzzing in her ears, it's making the job considerably harder.

There's the low muttering of whispered conversations, and the steady heartbeat of a child. A few cars are driving past, one going at least 10mph over the speed limit, and another containing a couple, arguing over a woman at the bar. Santana can hear all of these things and it's like she's walking around the map in her mind, but with her ears, tracing the sounds and trying to locate her abuela. Where the hell is she?

"Mija?" Her abuelo calls her out and she blinks three times, regaining focus on the blurred image of her grandpa's face. "What's wrong?"

Santana remains silent for a moment, hearing her own heartbeat pick up the longer time her grandma's location is unknown.

"I-I-" she pauses when she finally finds it and pulls her brows together. Her abuela's heartbeat is farther away than it should be. _She's_... Santana squeezes her eyes shut and clenches her jaw, teeth pushing together almost painfully tight. _Five meters from the store. Walking in the wrong direction._

Santana almost breathes a sigh of relief, and the pressure _almost _lifts off her chest. But then she hears it, and if she weren't so focused on the way her grandma's searching through her handbag for her phone, she would've heard the distant footsteps. She would've heart the secondary heartbeat and the shuffling of someone reaching into her pocket. She would've fucking heard it but she couldn't and now–

_A click._

Santana's eyes grow wide; the sound is unmistakeable. It was the same sound she heard back in the alley when she rescued Brittany.

"No, abuel–" the word dies in her throat, hand reaching out to grab at the air and eyes snapping open. But it happens anyway, and if she weren't in so much shock, she could've got there in time.

_A gunshot._

_A bullet, piercing through flesh and soaring through muscle._

_A low, pained gasp._

_The light trickling of blood._

_A body slumping against the pavement._

_Footsteps._

Tears are now clouding her vision and Santana doesn't even register her movements before she's moved quicker than the speed of light, blasted through the front door, tearing it off it's hinges and dashing as fast as her legs and powers will take her until she appears behind a crowd of people, who pay no attention to her arrival. From her position, she can't see who or what's on the ground but in the back of her mind, she already knows. She can already tell from the way her stomach drops, listening to the weak thump of a dying heart. She can already tell from the way a hot tear rolls down her cheek, and the way she doesn't care for anyone else as she pushes her way through the crowd, the strength coming from a place she's only ever kept hidden from the world.

There's voices... Slightly angered tones asking _what are you doing? _and saying _mind out, bitch, _but she doesn't care. She cares for nothing else in this moment than the sight unfolding before her very eyes. She trips, stumbling the rest of the way through the crowd until the body comes into view and she chokes a whimper. Her legs no longer feel strong enough to keep herself up and she falls. She falls and her knees collide heavily with the ground. Her arms fall helplessly by her side and she sobs quietly, her grandmother's paling body lying almost lifeless in front of her.

"Abuelita..." she whispers, but it's no use. Her grandma blinks lazily up at her, the light in her dark brown eyes fading with the smile she forces.

"_Sntna," _comes from her grandma and Santana closes her eyes, willing this moment to go away. It must be a dream. This can't be real.

A hand, soft and reverent, comes up to her cheek, and she doesn't glance up immediately, instead focused intently on the patch of red spread across her grandmother's once-white blouse. Why couldn't Santana have just got there? She could've. She fucking could have _saved _her grandma but now it's too late and the heartbeat she was so attuned to is dimming into a slowed rhythm.

And Santana swears in that moment, she will get revenge. She will find the person that did this and she will fucking _kill them._

"_Mija..." _Her abuela's voice is hushed and breathless, and Santana forces her shaking limbs closer to the woman, eyes drifting up to meet the ones staring back at her. "I-I love you-you."

Through the tears, Santana manages a smile and chokes against it, her heart clenching as the sound of her grandmother's breathing loudens in her ears. Not for one second did she ever think about this moment. She never thought about this because and now she's kneeling on a slight damp pavement, surrounded by crowds of strangers peering into this _tragedy _and seeing red and blue lights flash against the buildings around her.

She doesn't even get to answer, even though the words are rolling off the tip of her tongue. Hands grab at her shoulders, her forearms, her back. They pull and tug and she's so weak and so disorientated that they succeed in hauling her to her feet. Her vision blurs and wavers, and she swallows against a drying throat, trying to figure out whether to cry or to punch things. Anger sizzles beneath her skin and she can hear voices shouting in her ear. Words like _murdered _and _suspect escaped _come to her attention and it does nothing more than fuel the flame within.

Tears stream down her face and she tries to breath evenly as someone leads her away from the crowd, but she can't be here. The dull heartbeat fades into nothingness and it's like everything goes quiet. The entire world just delves into silence and she sucks in a shaky gasp, feeling something in the center of her chest throb and empty, and then she knows.

_My abuela's dead._

Santana jerks away from the palm grasping her upper arm, catching some body part with the back of her hand. She hears a pained gasp, and fleetingly wonders how hard she just hit the guy she can now see is wearing a shining badge on the top left of his chest. _A policeman._

She doesn't know what else is going on around her. She doesn't know if the people rushing to her grandma are EMT's or other random people being nosey and wanting to know what's going on. She doesn't know if anyone's called her grandfather or if someone saw her dart here quicker than the speed of light, revealing her secret. She just doesn't know.

All she knows is that one moment she's standing there, a policeman leaning over her and firing questions at her that she doesn't hear, and the next air is flying through her hair, beating against her face and she's soaring through the night sky; her subconscious leading the way. Adrenaline pulses through her but seven seconds into her flight something falters and then she's falling. She's falling and it's only a second before her chest collides against something hard, which breaks under the pressure and then she's falling again. Something slams into her chest, and she twists when the breath is ripped from her lungs, her back prepared to take the impact of what's to come next.

But nothing else does.

She blinks slowly and crawls to her feet, entire body aching and yelling at the movement. Her hands are bloody and she can see through her blurred vision her pinky finger on her right hand is oddly placed, dislocated and sticking out at a right angle. There's too much emotion within her to feel the pain though, and she's sure her clothes are ripped but she just doesn't care.

_My abuela's dead._

The thought races through her mind and it spurs the anger again. It spits it out like hot white venom and then she's throwing things. The first things that come into sight she grabs, and hauls with everything she has. The control she told herself to have once just isn't there, but the tears are. She's crying. Crying a fucking river and lashing out on everything in sight and within reach. She's throwing objects, hearing clashes and clangs and objects smashing into each other but doesn't care. She doesn't care where she is and who can hear her. She just doesn't care.

She throws and punches and kicks until there's nothing left around her, and then she stops moving and suddenly it's all heavy breathing and a racing pulse. It's her own and her aching heart is thudding unevenly against her ribcage and she doesn't know when, but she sinks to the ground, knees colliding against the concrete _hard. _It just sends a flash through her mind of how she was doing this barely even ten minutes ago and then she's angry again.

Fury surges through her body, sparking the fire inside her eyes and then she's shooting out heat rays, setting barrels on fire and not caring whether they're filled with explosive liquid like last time. That doesn't matter anymore. She feels hopeless. She's in pain and when the sobs and whimpers cause her body to almost stop functioning, Santana screams and brings both fists into the air, before slamming them with every ounce of strength she has down into the ground by her knees, the concrete breaking and snapping beneath her like a feather.

It all gets too much and then she can't see. She can't feel anything and those three words are playing on a loop in her mind.

_My abuela's dead._

And then she blacks out, images of her grandmother, bleeding with her hair strewn across a blood-stained pavement burning through her mind.

* * *

It could be hours or it could be minutes when she hears the sound of tires crunching against gravel. She assumes there's some sort of dirt track leading to this warehouse, but she's too physically and emotionally exhausted to really care.

Reluctantly, when she hears the sound of a car door opening and closing, then footsteps coming closing in, she drags herself up; uncurling from her fetal position and sitting up with her back against a box or a barrel or something alike. If someone's come to get her – Fabray or one one of his henchman ('cause a guy like that probably does have them) – the least she can do is stare them in the eye as they get her. At least sitting like this, legs pulled to her chest, arms folded and resting on her knees and forehead pressed into her forearm, they can see how vulnerable she is and maybe, just _maybe _if they have an ounce of humanity in them, they'll forget they ever found her.

Either way though, she doesn't really care.

"Santana?"

Santana slowly lifts her head from where it was pressed on her forearms and squints against the intruding moonlight. Her eyes have been closed so long it hurts to look up.

"Are you here?"

Furrowing her brow, Santana swallows and realizes just how dry her throat is. She could do with a glass or water right now; she's pretty sure she cried out every bit of water within her.

"Please, Santana? Where are you?"

She waits and licks her lips, tasting salt. She thinks maybe if she's quiet enough then the person will go away. Maybe if she's hidden enough, if she shuffles back into the darkness, the person calling her name will give up and drive away again. Maybe.

"I know you're here," the voice says, softly. "I can feel you."

That breaks Santana and she feels her lower lip quiver. So she sucks it in and whimpers, loud enough that it doesn't go unheard by the person who gasps and begins heading her way. It takes a few seconds, but then the person edges around a few broken boxes and steps over broken metal beams – the ones that might possibly be responsible for the ache in Santana's damaged knuckles – and then comes into view. Still, she says nothing and just bites her bottom lip, staring at Brittany as she peers into the darkness and finally lays her eyes on Santana.

"Santana," the blonde gasps and rushes to her, falling to her knees and clutching to Santana's forearms. Even feeling like this, Santana still feels the tingle spread over her skin from the other girl's touch. Their eyes lock and her breath fall short, seeing the sadness and worry that's unavoidably sparkling in Brittany's eyes that are just _so _blue.

A soft but still very concerned smile pulls at pink lips. "Hi," Brittany breathes, moving her hands to Santana's cheeks and cupping them, fingers running over her cheeks and up her temple. Her face is so close now and Santana can't help but stare. She's not sure they've ever been this close before.

"Hi," she manages to get out, but it's rough and raspy. She still needs some water. "How did you know where I was?"

Brittany swallows and Santana's not sure if she wants to hear the answer. "I didn't. But your grandad told me this was a possibility," she answers and answers the question Santana doesn't ask immediately. "I ran into him at the..." She hesitates and chews on her lower lip, before whispering, "At the hospital."

"Why-" Santana chokes and squeezes her eyes shut. "Why were you at the-the hospital?"

Brittany's eyes say the _why are you asking me that now? _instead of her mouth, but she still replies. "My sister twisted her ankle."

Santana nods and there's a long moment of silence between them before Brittany breaks it. She shuffles forward, until Santana's forced to part her legs and let the girl come between them. Her heart begins to pick up and she knows how close the blonde is now, there's the beating of hot breath on her forehead, but she's not going to look up. She can't.

"You shouldn't be here," she says, a little angrily, clenching her fists against the concrete when she drops her arms.

Brittany doesn't back away. "You shouldn't be here alone."

It pisses Santana off a little bit. Why does the girl suddenly care whether she's alone or not? "I'm fine, Brittany," she spits and grabs at pale wrists when the hands on her face attempt to tilt her chin up, pushing them away and taking the opportunity to slide out and stand on quivering legs. "Just leave me alone."

There's no need to turn to see Brittany's hurt expression. She can feel it in the way blue eyes are boring into the back of her skull.

"Don't do that," Brittany's voice is low and Santana winces at the way she sounds so small. She _hates _that. "Don't shut me out."

Santana crosses her arms over her chest and hugs herself. "Just go. Please."

"No," the other girl tells her, and Santana can hear that she's climbing to her feet. "I'm not going to leave you on your own."

"You should."

Footsteps come up behind her and she tenses when Brittany's standing directly behind her. It's not a good idea for her to be standing this close when Santana can't control herself. There's already a warehouse full of evidence to show that and whilst, yeah, Brittany might assume that was like that when Santana got here, she'd be wrong.

Santana steps forward and turns around, blinking furiously. She doesn't have any contacts in or any glasses on so looking at Brittany probably isn't the best idea. "Don't stand too close to me," she warns before Brittany can make the decision to move closer.

Brittany obeys and swallows, eyes darting up to meet Santana's. "I'm sorry..." she breathes. "About your–"

"Don't," she hisses. "Don't," she repeats softly.

"I'm sorry."

Santana tries not to cry, she really does, but it just doesn't work. Tears begin to trail down her cheeks and she whimpers, sucking in her lips to try and hide it even though it's too late. Brittany doesn't care about her earlier words and gets closer, stepping into Santana's bubble at the same time Santana's knees buckle and she falls to her knees. She just can't hold it in.

"Abuela didn't deserve it," she sobs, clutching at the other girl's shirt. Her nose presses into the long slope of Brittany's neck and Santana breathes her in. "She did _nothing _wrong. She was the nicest–nicest woman... I just–I can't. Someone fucking took her life away–they fucking _killed _her," her voice is hoarse and muffled into Brittany's shirt, which is now soaked with tears. "They just–killed her..."

Arms wrap around her body, pulling her in and she's thankful for the comfort. She's thankful for Brittany. "I know, Santana," the blonde murmurs, lips pressing into Santana's hair. And Santana can hear the tears in the other girl's voice. Brittany's crying too. "I'm so sorry."

"I should've... I should've done something," she cries and feels their bodies slowly rock back and forth, despite both of them being on their knees. "If I'd been there–If I'd just fucking _been _there... I could've–I could've _done _something."

Pain wracks through her chest and her fingers tighten in Brittany's shirt, but there's still that part in the back of her mind chanting _don't hurt her _and _mind your strength, _so she attempts to back away. But Brittany's right there, tugging her back in and not giving her a chance to escape, even if she knows she could.

"You can't blame-blame this on yourself," Brittany sniffles and runs her hand around Santana's neck, urging it back until their eyes can lock. "You _can't,_Santana," she says, a tear falling with her words. "You couldn't have done anything."

Everything inside of Santana shouts _yes, I could! _but it just doesn't come out. She's been keeping the secret for so long her body just won't let it roll of her tongue. Instead, she nods but then shakes her head vigorously like she's disagreeing with herself.

"No, you couldn't," the blonde says and tips their foreheads together. Santana sucks in a shaky breath and hands come up to her cheeks again, cupping them, thumbs rubbing over them and wiping away the tears. "Someone did this... And-and I don't know h-how," she stutters, head rolling against Santana's from side to side. "Your grandma was just so... _so _amazing and–"

"I know, I know," Santana chokes, unable to stop her hands from reaching up and holding onto pale forearms, securing them to where they are. "I just-should've been able to pro-protect her," she says, but it's more to herself than to Brittany.

For some fucking reason she has these powers, she has the ability to move at the speed of light and fly across America in under a minute. She has the ability to shoot fire bullets from her eyes and pick up five tonne lorries. She has all these fucking powers and yet she couldn't even fucking use them to protect and save her fucking Abuela! How the fuck is that fair!?

"I should have been able to..." she repeats in a whisper and squeezes her eyes shut as more tears flood from them.

Brittany's hands flex against her cheeks, and she knows it's a prompt for her to look up. She does, unable to do anything else, and swallows against the way Brittany's gazing at her. Santana can barely hear a thing above the sound of her and Brittany's pulse roaring in her ears, and blue eyes are staring so deeply at her she swears everything is revealed. Her heart is racing so fast that she wonders if it's physically possible for it to burst out her chest, but that's quickly erased when a nose nudges against her own. That steals her focus and then she's staring at Brittany, hearing _and _seeing the way the blood rushes to her cheeks.

"Santana..." Brittany mutters and Santana's breath hitches in her throat. Brittany's voice is deep and her eyes are dark and Santana can see the intent dwelling beneath them. As much as she tells herself to look away though, she can't. "I..."

For a moment they just gaze at each other. They just stare and Santana's only broken from it when Brittany's hand trails down from her cheek and lingers along her jaw, the fingers still stroking over the skin there. She doesn't move, too focused on the way blue eyes are darting down to the lower half of her face and then up again, and she knows what's coming next. She can feel it in the way Brittany's pulse is hammering beneath her fingertips when she moves her hand and wraps it around her wrist. And the way a pink tongue pokes out, wetting soft lips until they're glistening lightly in the moonlight.

Their breathes share in the space between their mouths, and Santana can no longer hear her heart, or Brittany's, just the sound of soft air beating against her lips. Blue eyes are still locked onto hers and she wonders if she should just back away now. Back away and pretend this never happened. Back away and then escape, leaving everything behind her and just disappear.

But then the lightest of pressure is applied to her jaw and she's being urged forward, head tilting automatically until lips are brushing over hers, so lightly she has to question whether it actually happened or not. She pulls back and breathes out, and suddenly sees the way Brittany's stare has changed from wanting to something deeper. Something Santana knows to be intense fear.

And somehow, that loosens her up and gives her the confidence to do something she never thought were possible. She leans back in and presses their mouths together again, harder this time. Brittany's lips are soft. Soft and so sweet and Santana doesn't know if anything has ever tasted this damn good and feels the need for more. Her eyes close and it takes a second, a second that Santana swears feels like five minutes, but then Brittany's kissing her back and sliding her fingers down from her jaw to the hair at the back of her neck, tangling there and deepening the kiss.

It's everything she's ever wanted, and in the back of her mind there's Santana Lopez: The Nerd throwing a celebration with party hats and cake and the whole lot because _fuck, _she's kissing Brittany Pierce. She's kissing her and their lips are shifting so Brittany takes her bottom one between her own, sucking lightly and running her tongue along it.

...And Santana's mind explodes.

There's a moan, from who she can't tell, and she slides her hands down from Brittany's forearms, drifting past her waist and holding onto her hips, fingertips pressing into the skin lightly. She straightens up and tilts her head, switching the kiss and feeling Brittany smile against her mouth and _holy crap, _she can't believe this is happening. Their chests rise and fall together, and Santana can feel a warmth pool low in her belly when Brittany arches into her, moving her arms until they're wrapped around her neck and pulling Santana closer as she does so.

Something warm and wet flicks against her lip, and with one smooth movement she opens her mouth and Brittany's tongue rolls against her own, expertly stroking and doing everything that makes Santana's head spin round and round till she no longer knows her own name. Her hand slips, and then it's pressing against the hot skin of Brittany's lower back, tugging their hips together until there's no space left between them.

They kiss and kiss, until Brittany has to pull back for air; but even then she brings their foreheads together and pants heavily against Santana's mouth. They stare at each other and Santana can't fight the smile that tugs at her lips, especially when the fingers on the other girls hips flex subconsciously, checking if this is actually real.

It is, and as Santana stares at the girl she's never been more sure of, she wonders if Brittany might possibly be a mutant too, 'cause that kiss was out of this world.

* * *

***runs away and hides* any thoughts?**


	10. Part Ten: The Brightest Light

**Title: **A Whole New World (With You) [Part Ten]**  
Rating: **R**  
Length: **5700

**Notes: **Can't thank you guys enough for your reviews! You're all awesome!

* * *

Things haven't been so good.

There have been police knocking at her door at ridiculous hours in the morning, asking for name of possible suspects in which Santana can't give any answers; her grandma was the world's kindest woman, and Santana didn't know anyone who would want to harm her. Her grandfather's been near inconsolable, and two days ago she told him to go and stay with his brother up in Alaska for a while, just so he could get away from the constant reminders.

Santana though, she's been more focused on revenge than mourning. It's cruel and she probably shouldn't, but all she can do is focus on the anger and pain burning beneath her palms, and the way her whole body is itching to find the killer.

But she can't. Not with everything else going on.

So it's a week later, and the first day that Santana's been back at school, and everyone's staring at her for an entirely different reason than they were two weeks ago. And it's kind of relaxing to have people acting differently towards her.

Quinn's been a great friend, bringing over tubs of ice-cream when Santana's been alone, and hell, even Puckerman's been kind enough not to slushie her, and that's got to count for something.

And then there's Brittany...

Brittany, the brightest light left in Santana's life and one of the only things keeping her head above water. She's been everything Santana needs. She's been a friend, she's been a shoulder to cry on and she's just _been _there, in a different way to Quinn.

It's weird, because despite being alone in Santana's room, nothing further has happened. They haven't kissed, and she's not exactly expecting it but she thought since they'd already kissed, that possibly it'd happen again.

But she doesn't really mind. Just getting to spend time alone with Brittany is a gift in itself. And she thinks Brittany hasn't made a move because of the whole life situation going on, that maybe it's a respect thing and Santana has to admit, that thought made her fall in love with Brittany just that little bit more. Not a lot of people respect her, and it's refreshing to find someone who does.

Anyway, she and Quinn are walking down the hallway, Santana with her head slightly ducked but eyes straight ahead when Brittany comes around the corner. She looks like something out of a magazine, with her hair straight and fringe clipped back, and as soon as their eyes meet, Santana's breath catches in her throat.

She flashes a small smile with Brittany, one that says _thank you, I like you _and _you're exactly what I need _all at the same time, and Brittany ducks her head, a dark pink coloring her cheeks like she gets what Santana's trying to say. And Santana can't help but blush right back.

Quinn catches this little exchange though, and as soon as Brittany passes with her friends, she nudges Santana in the shoulder. "What was that look about?"

The smile drops of Santana face and she coughs, straightening up.

Despite the whole Quinn being her new best friend, she hasn't quite told her about Brittany or their kiss yet. She doesn't know why, because she's sure Brittany wouldn't mind but she likes to think it's just their secret; something that links them together. "There is no look."

Quinn seems hesitant, but Santana's been so emotional that the blonde hasn't pressed on any issues, fearing an emotional outburst or something. "Okay..."

And despite Quinn not actually telling her, Santana knows that's the reason she hasn't been pressing on any issues is because of that fear. She feels bad because of it. She shouldn't be lashing out or being sharp with the people that are being nice to her, Quinn mainly, just because her abuela died. It's not like it's Quinn's fault.

"Sorry," she apologizes and shakes her head a little. "I'm just a bit on edge. You know, with everything going on."

"It's fine," Quinn chirps and offers a smile. "I understand."

It's quiet for a few minutes as they walk to class, and Santana can tell by the way Quinn keeps glancing at her every few seconds that she wants to say something. "What?"

"I was just wondering..." her friend swallows and pauses and Santana knows what's coming. "Has there been any progression with your grandma's case? Like, with the police and stuff?"

Santana tightens her jaw muscles and thinks back to the last few days. They've pretty much been spent with her camped out on the top of the police station, with her legs crossed, hands palms up and facing the sky, eyes closed and ears perked up. It doesn't really help that much more, but when Santana's in a relaxed state, it improves the things she picks up on through her ears. And that's exactly how she's been listening to the police and every step they take. She's just been sitting there, listening and picking up every little detail there is.

But apparently there hasn't been much progression as there was no evidence on the scene. A footprint here and there, but no hair follicles or useful DNA residue left behind and so the police hadn't been able to go much further with it just yet.

Although Santana seems to think they're not really trying. So, she shakes her head in answer to her friend's question and says, "No, not yet."

Quinn's eyebrows furrow in sympathy. "I'm sorry, S. How's your grandad doing?"

"Abuelo's fine," she sucks in a deep breath and clutches her books tighter to her chest. "He's actually gone to stay with his brother in Alaska for a while. He couldn't really handle it."

"You're on your own in the house?"

Santana nods. "He's back on Saturday though. For the funeral."

"Oh, right," Quinn's voice is a little more positive now. They both turn the corner of the hallway and dodge a few students who barge past them. "Is he going back to Alaska afterward, though?"

"I don't really know," Santana can feel the weight of the conversation pressing down on her. She never really thought she was lonely until Quinn's voice became all low and negative. "I don't really want to think about it, though. I just need to get my mind off it for a while."

On the right, they pass a noticeboard and Santana has all intention of just walking past, but a hand snatches at the back of her hoodie and yanks her back. Startled, she nudges her glasses further up her nose and turns around, scowling at her friend for the sudden movement. "What the hell, Q!?"

Quinn ignore her, and just stares at the noticeboard. "What about that?"

"What about what?"

Quinn rolls her eyes and forcefully turns Santana's head by pinching her chin between her fingers and tugging to the right. "_That. _The school newspaper," she explains, staring at the notice with _The Muckraker needs new columnists!_ as the title_. _"I sit next to you in English and you're basically schooling the teacher."

Santana glances at the piece of paper, with a few ready-to-tear notes hanging off the edge. "So?"

"_So, _you're a nerd so it won't harm your reputation and it'll take your mind off... _things _for a while."

"Jheeze, Quinn. Be sensitive about it why don't you."

Her friend rolls her eyes. "I'm just saying go and check it out. You've got nothing to lose whether you like it or not. And you got a free next. Perfect way to waste time."

Santana chews the inside of her cheek thoughtfully for a moment, pressing her lips together tightly.

On one hand Quinn has a point; it would take things off her mind for a while and even though Jacob Ben Israel is like the biggest dork to walk these hallways – bigger than Santana – it's not like him joining _The Muckraker_team did anything to his reputation.

People still slushied him the same amount; hell, maybe even a little bit less after he started spreading rumors and publishing gossip. Gossip is like the fuel of the popular people, and seeing as Jacob was the one to tell them, they laid off him a little.

So maybe it wouldn't harm to just check it out. Right?

"Okay, I'll do it."

Quinn flashes a toothy smile and jabs her lightly in the arm. "Good. I've gotta go to math now so I'll see you at lunch, Nerdpez."

Santana rolls her eyes as her friend walks away. "You're a bitch!" She yells and Quinn turns from her position at the end of the hallway, grinning.

"I don't care! Bye, specs!"

Santana smiles to herself and twists back to the noticeboard, breathing out heavily whilst debating whether or not she'll _actually _do it.

Only a few seconds later, she grabs one of the slips and buries it in her pocket, before twisting away and head in the opposite direction.

* * *

The slip tells Santana to go down to the unused end of school.

It's kind of freaky down here, and there was a rumor some time back about a student that died down here, and that his ghost now wanders these halls. Probably why no-one else comes here, to be honest, and Santana can see why. She wouldn't be here unless she had to.

The Muckraker room is pretty easy to find, mostly because it's the only one with a light on at this end of the school, and Santana pushes it open warily, sticking her head in and glancing around before she finds Jacob Ben Israel and some tall guy holding a camera near him as he speaks into it.

Neither of them notice her, and so she pushes the door open wider and steps inside, listening to something about Principal Figgin's being scared of one of the Juniors because she's a vampire.

Strange, but Santana's heard stranger things.

A minute later, Jacob says cut and Santana waits her queue. The tall guy puts down the camera and Jacob turns, eyes lighting up when they land on her.

"Is this for the newspaper thing?" She says, breaking the silence and awkwardness of Jacob checking her out. Gross.

Jacob takes a moment to stop staring at her boobs and looks at her face, nodding. "It is. I'm moving to the blogosphere world. Newspaper are outdated but Figgin's insists we keep them."

Santana doesn't know whether that's a good thing and nods. "Okay. So would I be doing it on my own?"

Jacob shrugs and picks up his belongings from the desk. It's only now Santana notices the room has pretty much been cleared out apart from an ancient computer on the desk and a small lamp.

The room is dingy, barely any natural light and the bookcases are made from rusting metal and have like, a Bible and a copy of _Useless Toilet Facts_. All in all it's a pretty shitty room.

"Unless someone else comes along then it's just you and the original people."

"The original people? Who are they?"

"We have a team of people who put it together and write a column for The Mathletes and The Gossip Column. Anything else is yours to take," he explains and jolts a little, nudging his glasses up his nose before reaching for something in his bag. It's a piece of paper, and he holds it out to Santana who takes it cautiously. "This is the outline and the deadline schedule, but apart from that this is your personal room and no-one else will come in."

Santana examines the schedule and nods. One issue per week isn't bad, she guesses. "Okay, is that it?" She asks, eyes drifting up.

The tall guy nods at the same time Jacob does, and they both move past Santana quickly before closing the door behind them.

Santana's just left there confused, and with once final glance around the room, she throws her bag onto the desk and rounds it, switching on the computer to start.

* * *

Considering it was her first ever time writing for The Muckraker, Santana thought it'd be a good idea to write an introduction about herself and what she intended to do.

It was formal, and she thought it'd be okay, right?

Seems not though, because as she's walking down the corridor the following day, all she's seeing is people balling the paper up and throwing it onto the floor, or using it to fold their chewing gum in or something. People just aren't interested in it and she knows there's _got _to be something she can write about that people would like. There's _got _to be, but she just needs to find it.

"_Wouldn't it be cool if like, there was a mutant that went to this school?"_

Santana almost stops in the middle of the hallway, but then someone would ask her what the hell she was doing and she couldn't reply _using my super hearing to eavesdrop on someones conversation, _so she keeps walking but keeps her ears perked up.

"_Dude! That'd be awesome! Imagine how cool that would be. It'd be like McKinley's own superhero!"_

That's enough for her, and Santana smirks to herself as an idea pops into her head.

She knows _exactly _what she's going to write about.

* * *

Typing out the article furiously, Santana doesn't even hear the footsteps coming down the abandoned hallway until they're outside her door.

Luckily, it's Brittany and Santana manages to finish the article, tie _and _check her hair over in the dusty mirror in the corner and put her glasses on within the time that Brittany takes to open the door.

And when she does, Santana's back in her seat, leaning forward and smiling.

A soft smile pulls at Brittany's lips, and she tilts her head to the side, crossing one ankle over the other as her shoulder rests on the door frame.

"So you joined The Muckraker team?" She says, commenting in a teasing tone more than actually asking.

Santana shrugs and leans back, pointing to herself. "Nerd, remember?"

Brittany chuckles and comes towards her, rounding the desk and perching by her left hand. A little _too _close to her left hand.

"What are you writing about?" She leans forward to try and peer at the computer screen but Santana's quicker, and switches the screen off.

"You'll have to wait and see," she responds, grinning.

"I don't get special treatment?" Brittany pouts and Santana almost gives in right then and there. Most adorable being in the world award? Goes to Brittany Pierce without even a smidgen of doubt.

Santana shakes her head and licks her lips. "Nope," she grins through the word.

"And there's..." Brittany draws out the word and leans down a little, eyelashes fluttering against her cheek. "No way I could entice you?"

Santana gulps, the useless air disappearing from her lungs fast. She swears if she were human, Brittany would have _definitely _killed her by now.

"No..." she breathes and clears her throat, reeling backwards. "I'm pretty good at keeping secrets."

There's a flash behind Brittany's eyes that Santana swears is rejection, but it's gone before Santana can see for real and then there's that knowing grin and that twinkle in her eye.

"I'm sure you are," she says and stands, rounding the desk and heading for the door. "See you tomorrow, Santana."

Santana just nods as the other girl disappears out the door and slumps down the chair when the footsteps fade. Brittany has been blurring her mind so much she forgot about tomorrow.

* * *

The funeral comes and goes quickly, and she's not entirely there throughout the ceremony.

Her grandma made arrangements for herself and her husband for their funerals way back, just in case, and even though when Santana found that out, she was a weird kind of angry hurt and didn't come home for two days – instead spent it throwing heavy machinery against brick walls and chucking barrels into the air, before shooting them with the heat rays out her eyes – she's kind of glad her abuela did because the ceremony is everything her abuela would've wanted.

They're on top of a small hill in a church about thirty minutes away from New York, and there's a space next to her grandma's burial ground reserved for Santana's abuelo when the time comes.

There's white roses, and instead of people wearing black, they're in brighter colors like move and racing green, just like her abuela wanted. There's no sad songs playing, instead _I've Had The Time Of My Life _from _Dirty Dancing _and Santana lets out a chuckle through her tears as the casket is lowered into the ground.

Quinn's here, but despite the invite to her dad, he didn't turn up, and Brittany's here too with the family. Santana's up the front by the minister, standing next to her abuelo who isn't crying but he couldn't look more sad if he watched a video of a puppy being kicked, and Santana has this weird feeling curdle in the pit of her stomach.

It's a mix between intense sadness and rage and her fist balls by her thigh as she steps forward, hearing the minister call her name, and drops the white rose onto the casket.

In that moment, she swears to get revenge on the person that not only caused her pain, but all the people that loved her grandma too.

She steps back into place, keeping her head down and lets the tears fall, ignoring the way her nails are digging so deep into her palm that she might possibly be drawing blood.

* * *

There's a wake down at the Church Hall, and Santana remembers how the members had come up to her, grabbed her hand and patted it gently as they told her not to worry about the funds for the funeral.

Her grandma was friends with everyone, and she was a part of the Church group so this was their 'gift' of some sort for Santana and her abuelo.

But that thought, despite it making her feel a little better, also pisses her off more.

Her abuela was friends with _everyone. _How could someone do this to her? Abuela was a freaking _angel._

She stands at the entrance of the Church Hall, greeting the people that have come down from the burial and the others that have arrived for the wake. She says hello, hugs a few of them, even though a majority of them she doesn't even know and continues doing so until Quinn comes along.

"Hey, S," her friend greets and hugs her. It's weird, because they never hug and when Santana pulls back, Quinn chuckles despite there being a few tears on her face. "Well that was weird."

"Yeah, let's stick with the punches," Santana replies, jabbing her friend in the arm lightly to emphasize her point.

"I'm allowed to be sappy and hug you today," Quinn says, wiping away the wetness on her cheeks. "Deal with it."

Santana nods and sucks in her lips. "I know. Thanks, Q."

Quinn sets a hand on her shoulder and squeezes gently. "I know you've probably got this about a million times, but things will get better. You have to know that."

The words have been said like three hundred times in the past hour, but Santana feels like they mean more coming from Quinn because Quinn's never this nice. She usually makes bitchy comments or is a little snarky, but at this moment she's sincere and it chokes Santana up.

"I know, Q. Just need to get through it," she sniffles and feels heat prick at her eyelids. "But quit getting all emotional otherwise I'll start crying then you'll be screwed."

Quinn jabs her lightly in the arm, but chuckles lightly. "Okay, okay. But heads up," she juts her chin to the sky and throws a wink in before heading into the Church Hall, past Santana.

Santana smiles and takes a deep breath, at the same time a heartbeat gets closer and closer, and louder and faster. It makes the grin on her face grow and she twists to the side to face Brittany, who reaches up and affectionately brushes back a piece of her hair before she can do it herself.

"Hey."

"Hi," Santana whispers and bits down on her bottom lip.

"How's your abuelo?" Brittany asks, trailing her fingertips down Santana's cheeks before dropping her hand from her face completely.

Santana giggles lightly at the other girls funny Spanish accent and breathes out heavily, glancing into the Church Hall towards her abuelo, watching him attempt a smile and fail. She sighs heavily. "He's pretty torn up," she replies, twisting her neck back towards Brittany. "But he's staying with his brother and his family at the moment."

Brittany bobs her head sympathetically, shifting a little closer until their hands bump together. "And how are _you_?"

It's weird, because since her abuela's death, everyone's asked about her abuelo and no-one has asked how _she _is. She guesses it's because she's had to be strong, she's kept a strong expression on her face and seemed to take it a lot lighter than her abuelo, but that's not true.

And now that Brittany's here, standing in front of her and asking _her _how she's doing instead of how other people are doing and she just knows she fell in love with the right girl.

"I'm okay," she sighs and takes in a deep breath. "A lot better now, though."

Brittany smiles and ducks her chin to her chest, staring bashfully at the ground. Her foot traces small circles in the dirty and Santana's heart flips and flops the way it always does when she's around Brittany.

"You can't say things like that," the blonde says and Santana pulls her brows together. Blue eyes flicker up quickly and catch the confusion, and so Brittany elaborates. "It's not right to make me want to kiss you at a funeral."

And Santana doesn't think she's heard anything better in a while. She licks her lips, wanting nothing more than to kiss Brittany too, but she's right; it _is _inappropriate to start making out with a girl at her abuela's funeral, no matter how hot or beautiful or kind or caring that girl may be.

Santana worries her bottom lip between her teeth and swallows against her thickening throat. _God_, how she wants to just kiss Brittany right now. Her kisses like a drug; Santana just can't get enough of them.

"Okay," she whispers, and reaches over to squeeze Brittany's hand quickly. "But you can't say things like that either, then."

Blue eyes dart up and it only takes a moment for Brittany to realize that Santana wants to kiss her back, but when she does, a huge grin spreads across her face and she bounces a little in her spot, eyes brightening by at least ten shades.

"Awesome," she beams but then someone calls her name and Santana turns her head to find Mrs. Pierce staring at the both of them.

Brittany's shoulders deflate and her eyes darken a little bit, knowing their moment is over. She turns back to Santana and her eyes flicker down to her lips before going back up to meet brown eyes. "I've gotta go."

Santana nods and closes her eyes when the other girl tips forward, twisting slightly and presses a long, soft kiss to her cheek. Her skin tingles beneath Brittany's lips and she inhales deeply, so tempted just to turn her head and catch the girl's lips but knows she can't do that. Not now. Not here.

Brittany pulls away with the same huge grin on her face and clasps her hands in front of her, swinging them excitedly. "I'll see you later, okay?"

"I'll see you when I see you," Santana grins, a little dazed and it takes a good three and a half minutes after Brittany walks away to kick her mind back into gear and greet the remaining guests.

* * *

Later that night, when she gets home, the entire day comes crashing down on her.

She slumps back onto her mattress, running her hands over her face and raking her fingers through her hair as she thinks of all the kind words people said to her about her grandma. It should've made her feel better, and the only reason they were saying them was for the purpose of making her feel better, but it pretty much did the opposite.

Every compliment and kind word was just another reminder that there's some heartless bastard out there who just took the opportunity to kill an old woman because they could, and not even for a legitimate reason either. Abuela still had all her belongings still on her, including her purse, and the police had ruled out a robbery as the intention.

And every time someone said to her _'I'm so sorry about your grandma. She was the most wonderful person, God may she rest in peace,' _it just sent another punch of fury through her veins. Even the fucking police aren't do anything to catch this homicidal fucker and Santana just wants to do it herself. She just wants to do it and fucking kill the bastard.

Pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes, she begins to dwell on the thought and thinks how she could probably do a better job than the police at this rate. They probably haven't even taken a glance at her abuela's file because they're lazy fucking idiots.

Fuck. Even she could do a better job than they are.

Shooting up from the bed, an idea strikes her.

Maybe she could do a better job. And better yet, she could do it without anyone even _knowing _she was doing it. She could be in and out of that police station, breaking into the cabinet and stealing her abuela's case file before any of the police even freaking _blinked._

So that's exactly what she's going to do.

Peeling her glasses off her face, Santana throws them aside and heads over to her dresser to slip in her contacts. It's only 11pm, and her abuelo ended up going back to Alaska with his brother and family, so it's not like there's anyone to tell Santana that she can't do this; even if that'd probably be a wise idea.

She darts to her dresser and rifles through her drawer, digging at the back until her uniform comes into touch and she pulls it out. She tugs the blue shirt with the 'S' over her head when she removes her funeral clothing and then steps into the skirt, adjusting the spanks she slips on underneath so no-one will be able to see her underwear, should she be seen.

When she's finally dressed, she glances in the mirror and smiles at her reflection. She looks freaking _bad __ass._

With that final thought, she climbs out the window and flies into the night.

* * *

It takes barely a second to get to the police station, and as soon as her feet touch the gravel of the roof, she's already mapped out how many people are in the building using her X-ray vision.

Most of the policemen are off the clock by now, so there's just a officers few darted around in random places, some in their offices, typing something up on the computer and a few more in the kitchen area of the second floor, sipping on day old coffee and, ironically, munching on donuts.

Santana walks on over to the air vent, protruding from the corner of the roof and removes the grate. It's a tight fit, but she'll be able to do it and so she hovers off the ground, tilting her body forward and going in head first, hands pressing lightly against the metal beside her. She crawls down the vent, trying to keep herself elevated because she's seen enough movies to know air vents can break, and leave her falling onto someones desk, and there's no way she could explain _that_whilst dressed like _this. _

Every now and then there's a grate, which allows Santana to peer into the room directly below her and it only takes four or five to get to a vacant office. With a gentle touch, she picks the grate off and slides it down the vent, further down where it makes a small scraping noise. If there were someone below her she'd be worrying but unless someone in the building has super sensitive hearing, she's good.

Ceremoniously, she leans forward, trying not to press to hard on the metal as she pokes her legs through the hole and drops down into the office. It's dark, which helps because just as she drops, a police officer walks back, clutching a file and dropping his head every half a second like he's about to fall asleep. As soon as the guy's walked by, Santana begins sorting through the file cabinets, breaking them open with a bobby pin in her hair and inwardly laughing at how easily that was done. Even a freaking human could do that.

There's hundreds of files inside these cabinets, and she knew there were a lot of people in this region but _damn. _There are so many people and Santana has to go through five cabinets, whilst making sure there's no-one walking into the office or by the office, before she finds the letter 'L' in the files.

She sorts through them at super speed, and when it finally comes up – _Clarissa Emilie Lopez – _Santana's throat catches. Inside this manilla case file in her hand, are the details of her grandma's death. She sucks in a deep breath and peeks through the window shutters, making sure there's no-one there before exhaling and opening the file at the same time.

Inside there's words printed, and even though they're just the same as every other word it's like they've been highlighted: _suspected homicide, no suspects at this time _and _further investigation needed._

And it pisses her off. Pisses her off because the only piece of evidence taken from the scene is a male's size 12 footprint, and without any potential suspects, there's no way that can be of any use.

Frustration and anger burning through her, she throws her palm forward and it smashes into the cabinet; the metal crumbling beneath her palm like a piece of paper. Her forehead hangs forward and she wills herself not to let the rage out because she's breaking and entering a police station here, and she doesn't really fancy spending the next five years in a prison cell because the police were too damn lazy to find her abuela's murderer and it worked her up so much she destroyed an office.

Gritting her teeth together, she pulls back and shoves the case file back into its original place, and as she shuts it, realizes it can no longer close properly because the hand shaped dent in the metal is preventing it from doing so. She lets out an aggravated sigh and opens it again, reaching inside and buffing it out with her fingertips until it looks kind of like it did three minutes ago, when something clicks in her mind.

Whilst she's here, she might as well do something useful. Holly wanted to know more about Russel Fabray, and Santana's in a perfect position to do just that. There's probably a whole file on him, including where he grew up and how many crimes he's committed. And sure, it's a criminal offense, one that could land her with some hefty charges when combined with breaking and entering, but it's definitely going to be useful.

Opening the drawer above, she searches for 'F' and when she finds it, her fingers flick through the files until _Russel C. Fabray_comes into sight. She picks it up, smirking as she opens it up but that smirk quickly fades.

There's nothing in his file.

Like literally, nothing. A picture of him, and his name. But no birth date. No home town. No place of birth. Or, and most surprisingly, no criminal record. How can a guy like that not have _anything _on his criminal record?

Her thoughts don't have long to process before her ears pick up a heartbeat and footsteps, and by the looks of things, they're heading this way. She waits it out, until a deep voice says "_I'm just getting something from my office" _and then she knows she has to move.

Returning the file back to it's place, she shuts the drawer and climbs back up to the vent, making a quick escape before she can be seen.


	11. Part Eleven: News Vans and Reporters

**Title: **A Whole New World (With You) [Part Eleven]  
**Rating:** R  
**Length: **5400

**Notes: **I know the last update kind of sucked, but it's building the plot. However it did make me feel a bit bad, only putting a little Brittana in, so I decided to give you a next day update to make up for it. That cool?

* * *

The weekend passed by quickly, Santana spending most of it off in Ontario and Quebec, finding and training in places that were deserted.

She spent Sunday with Brittany, just lounging about in the Pierce's back yard and talking about random events in their life. Their hands had brushed when they both reached for the fresh lemonade Brittany's mom made them, and Santana had moved her hand back so quickly she almost toppled off the chair.

Brittany had giggled, Santana got embarrassed. In the end they were both laughing though, even with a faint red tint to their cheeks.

But now it's Monday and Santana gets into school extra early to finish up the column for this weeks edition of The Muckraker. The idea popped into her head last week after hearing those students talk about a mutant, and so her plan was to do a Peter Parker and come up with a superhero of her own, and write about her in the school newspaper.

Little does everyone know that the superhero is her. She thought it'd be a nice little twist.

And the best part? The entire school freaking _loves _it.

Santana walks down the corridors, shrugging her backpack up her shoulders and clinging to the straps, and just watches as a few random students begin to hand out the stack of copies of The Muckraker. There's crinkling of paper and gasps, and then there's a few _holy crap, a teenage mutant! _and _wait, who wrote this?_

She smiles to herself, ducking her head slightly and picks up on a certain conversation when the topic peaks her interest.

"_I wonder who this mystery teen mutant is." _A guy's voice. He's interested and the sound of paper turning can be heard.

"_Do you think she goes here?" _A girl this time. Her voice is high and slightly squeaky. _"How cool would that be?"_

"_She could do." _It's the guy again. _"It doesn't say anything about her personal life, though." _He flicks through the paper and then pauses, flipping it over again. _"Wait, who wrote this?"_

"_Umm... Santana Lopez?" _The girl says, and her voice goes up at the end like she's surprised.

"_Who's that?"_

The sound of a lip between moistened by a poke of a tongue._ "I think it's that nerd. You know, the one Sam Evans used to hang out with."_

"_Oh, yeah," _the guy says and the sound that comes next is one that tells Santana he's handing over the newspaper._ "I wonder how she knows her."_

"_Well I don't know," _the girl's voice is a little distance, like she's reading and speaking simultaneously._ "But apparently Brittany Pierce does."_

"_For real?" _The guy's voice is sound of friction makes Santana think he's rubbing his neck. _"What happened?"_

"_Look... the whole story's here."_

It goes quiet for a long moment, and Santana can tell by their small gasps and the way their heart beats a little faster that the story is exciting. She was going for that effect, hoping it'd make the readers want to know more and apparently it's worked.

It's a few minutes later when they start speaking again.

"_Damn. That was lucky."_

"_She was lucky," _the guy agrees and the newspaper's folded in half. _"Mutant's a lucky girl though. Brittany Pierce is hot."_

"_You think the mutant's lucky?" _The girl says and shuffles the newspaper again, opening it once more. Santana thought it'd be a nice finishing touch to add a picture of herself, which actually was pretty hard to take. She ended up having to Photoshop a shadow into it to hide the majority of her face. _"Lucky Brittany. This mutant is smoking."_

The guy makes a grunt of acknowledgment but as Santana grins to herself, thinking how ridiculous it is that a uniform is the difference between being hot and being a nerd, she finds herself completely oblivious to everything else and ends up walking straight into a door. The glasses presses against her nose hard and tears begin to form in her eyes. Shit. That really fucking hurt.

Clutching her nose, she whips her head around, making sure no-one saw that embarrassing moment, and she heads off to class.

Once a clumsy nerd, always a clumsy nerd.

That's something that's never going to change.

* * *

With the increase of readers for The Muckraker, Principal Figgin's calls Santana into his office and tells him that she can dictate how many issues a week she puts out. She thinks about it, and they both settle on it being a bi-weekly release because she still needs to keep up her GPA and needs to keep up her training because so far the amount of mutants that have come out are now edging well over a hundred.

And it's pretty scary.

So it gets to Wednesday and Santana's sitting in her dingy little room, which she's managed to spruce up a little bit with another lamp and like, one of those Chinese relaxation plants, and she's typing up the next issue of The Muckraker. It's 7pm, but the janitor left her a set of keys for her to lock up the fire exit.

(They became friends in Freshman year after Santana tried to find the toilet and ended up in the janitors closet.

They had lunch together for a few weeks before Figgin's found out and forbade it.)

This edition is about her powers, and she takes great time in detailing every single one of them. Her personal favorites are flying and hypnotization, but she hasn't had a lot of opportunities to hypnotize people because no-one knows about her and so it's hard to train it when there's no-one else around.

So she just focuses more on flying and adds in a few quickly paragraphs about her unlimited super strength, stamina, invulnerability and rapid healing rate. She opts out on writing about the enhanced metal processes like eidetic memory and genius level intellect because that might be a slight give away, and instead writes about her super-breath, which includes freeze breath as she found out a few days ago.

It's pretty cool, and half-way through adding a photo of herself, this time hovering ten feet off the ground – thank you technology for tripods – she hears footsteps. Her eyes flick up, switching on X-ray vision and through the wall and she instantly sees Brittany coming down the hallway, humming to herself with a small smile on her face.

Santana chuckles lightly and shakes her head; could Brittany be more adorable?

The door cracks open and she continues to smile, ready to welcome the girl in when the breath catches in her throat and her cheeks turn a dark shade of red because she forgot to turn the vision thing off and before she glanced away, she caught sight of purple lacy underwear.

Shit.

"Are you okay?"

Santana coughs a few more times and bangs her fist against her chest. "Yep," she replies, voice hoarse. "Sorry, just caught my breath."

Brittany smirks and saunters towards her, tilting her head to the side slowly as she rounds the desk. Like last time, she leans her butt against the edge, right next to Santana's hand and unlike last time, Santana's hand is holding the mouse on the mouse pad about an inch away from Brittany's bare thigh.

All Santana can think is how short those shorts are. They're like, _very _short, and that smooth skin is within touching distance.

Santana glances to up and sends a quick prayer that she doesn't make a total dick of herself in the next five minutes.

"So, uh, what are you doing here?" She asks, furrowing her brow and returning to the computer screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard.

Out the corner of her eye she watches Brittany's fingers walk down her own thigh, before heading across the table and jumping up onto Santana's arm. Her skin immediately flares, and she sucks in a sharp gasp, eyes darting down to the fingers trailing up and down her forearm.

"I was just sitting at home..." Brittany's voice is lower than usual, and Santana can feel blue eyes locked onto her face. Her heart begins to beat a little faster against her chest, and she picks up on Brittany's, doing the exact same thing. "Thinking about you. So..." she draws out the word and her fingers brush down the back of Santana's hand, tracing over the gaps in her fingers and back up again. "I thought I'd come and find you." Her vision drifts until Santana can't resist staring into eyes that are just _so _blue. "Is that okay?"

Santana's throat begins to feel a little dryer. She nods, a little shakily and lets her body buzz in excitement. Brittany was thinking about her. That means something, right?

"Uh, y-yeah, but, um, why were you thinking about m–I mean–," she changes the question, flustered and too excited for the moment to be ruined. "H-how did you know I was here?"

"Just a guess," the blonde girl shrugs and smirks, ducking her chin to her chest and fluttering her eyelashes at Santana. "And in answer to your _other _question –" The smirk grows wider. "I was thinking..." Her fingers pause on the bone protruding from Santana's wrist. "About your article."

The excitement dies inside of her like a wilting flower. She should've known Brittany wasn't thinking about her in any other way apart from the damn article. Of course Brittany would be more freaking interested in a _mutant _than stupid nerdy, awkward Santana. Of-_fucking_-course.

_Hell, _even Santana knows who's more appealing.

"Yeah," she shifts in her chair and straightens up, removing her hand from underneath the other girl's touch. She misses the way Brittany's brows furrow momentarily in disappointment. "What about it?"

"Well, I read the article, and I was wondering how you knew that mutant saved me?"

Santana's lungs stop functioning and she freezes.

Shit.

"I mean, the details... They were _spot on,_" Brittany continues and narrows her eyes.

Santana shifts nervously in her seat, edging further away and leaning to the right. This really isn't good and she isn't exactly playing it cool.

"Well?" The blonde girl leans down, eyes darkening and lips turning up in a smirk as she gets closer. "What am I going to have to do to get it out of yo–"

"_Iknowthemutantwe'refriends."_

It comes out as one word and Brittany reels back, eyebrows lifted.

"What?"

"I know her," Santana repeats, a little slower this time and presses her shoulder blades into the back of the seat.

"You... _know _the mystery teen mutant?" Brittany's skeptical, and Santana's getting a little panicky – which is never good because a panicked Santana is also a word vomit Santana, and if the other girl keeps leaning in and pushing into her personal bubble, those two things combined are going to result in shit going down and the truth coming out.

"Yeah," Santana squeaks, and flinches at her own voice, coughing to return it to normal. "Um, she... She... she SAVED me," she half-yells and Brittany jolts, shocked by the sudden volume change in her voice.

"She _saved _you?"

"Yeah," Santana nods, in the _duh _kind of way. If there's a time to be good at lying, it'd be now. "You know, fell off a building and mystery teen mutant just happened to be there."

Blue eyes narrow. "You fell off a building?" Brittany asks, tone dripping doubt and fingers drumming along the desk top. "Why were you even _on_a building?"

Santana's eyes dart around the room, and she's so thankful that Brittany doesn't have super hearing because her voice is pounding a mile a second. She's even pretty sure she's sweating a little.

"Stars," she answers, remembering that night where she and Brittany sat on the roof. "I was looking at the stars."

Eyes roam around her face, staring at every inch of her expression and she swallows. Brittany's not just _looking _at her; she's examining her. She's narrowing her eyes and biting her bottom lip like she's trying to figure Santana out. Like she's trying to read a book that's written in Chinese.

The strange thing though, is that she doesn't seem confused. She seems genuinely curious, and maybe even a bit worried. Almost like she cares about why Santana's lying, because it's pretty obvious she is.

She has to look away, it's getting too intense.

"Right," Brittany shakes herself out of it and runs her teeth along her bottom lip. "The stars."

"Yeah..." Santana continues, but this time she feels the guilt pang at her chest for lying. "I slipped on some moss and just... fell. Thought it was the end for me but then she swooped in and saved me." She pauses, feigning the need for breath and quickly thinks of the rest of her story. "Although I recognized her straight away and she freaked out. Almost dropped me, actually."

She slips in a dry chuckle at the end, but Brittany's lips just twitch in response. Okay. Maybe this isn't a laughing matter.

"Wait..." Brittany interrupts and brown eyes widen. "You _recognized _her? Does she go to this school?"

Santana stills. "Um, no. She, uh, trains with me," she nods, her body responding and accepting the lie. "I recognized her from... Um, training."

A pale eyebrow arches and Santana shrugs. It _could _be true.

"Yeah, and so I told her I wouldn't reveal her identity if she'd let me write a column about her in my–_our _school's newspaper."

"Isn't that blackmail?" Brittany crinkles her nose and frowns, apparently not happy.

Santana almost begins to shake her head, but then something flicks in her mind and she chooses to be blasé about it instead. Maybe that'll change the way Brittany's staring at her.

"Nope," she says, tilting her head and resting it on the back of the chair. "Don't think so, but I needed something to spice up The Muckraker anyway."

It works, because Brittany stands, tilting her head to the side and a smirk plays on her lips. She sucks in her lower lip and lifts a hand, cupping Santana's jaw with her hand and forcing her to glance at her. Their eyes lock and Santana swallows against her tightening throat as the other girl descends down to her level, leaning forward into the chair and causing Santana to lean far back against the chair cushion.

Not this again.

"You're kind of a bad ass aren't you? Blackmailing people and getting them to do what you want."

Santana, breathless, manages a response, but it comes out a little scratchy and hoarse. Brittany's _really _close to her now. So close, in fact, that if she used her palms to lift her body up and inch, she could easily bring their mouths together.

_No. _Not a good idea to be thinking that.

"I know my way around things."

Brittany stays still for ten seconds, but her eyes drift down to the lower half of Santana's face and she becomes incredibly aware that she's staring at her lips. And not to be a nerd or anything, but whether it's conscious or a subconscious movement, that usually means a person wants to kiss another one, right? Like, body language and all that.

Doesn't that mean that Brittany would just kiss her though? She did in the warehouse, and it's pretty clear that Santana doesn't have that much experience and that Brittany is more confident, so shouldn't Brittany make the move?

Santana blinks the thoughts away; she's over-thinking this _way _too much.

"I bet you do," comes from Brittany's mouth, and it's low, almost a purr. Her eyes are narrowed and they're no longer bright blue, they're dark and mysterious, and Santana has to wonder whether Brittany feels like this all the time when she looks at her. "But you're still not gonna tell me who this mystery mutant is, are you?"

Santana feels blazing hot jealousy curdle in her stomach. The conversation isn't really involving Santana. Hell, Brittany wouldn't be here if she wasn't so interested in her alter-ego; and that annoys her. It makes sense, because why have the nerd when you can have a mutant?

That's like choosing between staying on a bug-ridden mattress or sleeping in a luxury king sized bed. They're two very different things, so Santana can't really blame Brittany for wanting to know more about the mystery mutant.

Doesn't change the jealousy within her though, even if it's stupid – how can she be jealous of herself?

Although that leads her onto the realization that actually, if Brittany is _at all _interested in Santana's alter-ego, doesn't that indirectly means she's interested in Santana? Considering they are the same person and all.

_Okay, stop, _she tells herself. She's thinking way too far into this. She doesn't even know why Brittany wants to know who the 'mystery teen mutant' is. She might just be curious. Well, there's no harm in asking to find out, right? Not like Santana's going to blurt out that she is the person she's writing about.

"Why'd you wanna know who she is, anyway?"

Brittany sucks in her lips, concealing a smile and pushes off the desk, rounding it and heading towards the door. "I just wanted to say thank you," she murmurs, twisting around again and backing the rest of the distance. "You know, for saving me."

Santana wants to call bullcrap, because there's something in the other girl's expression that says that 'thank you' isn't all she wants to say, her pulse says it too, but she can't say anything, so Santana nods weakly and sits back in her chair. "Okay. Well, no, I can't tell you."

"Thought as much," the blonde replies and twists the doorknob, opening it. "See you around, Lopez."

Santana smiles and flicks on her X-ray vision, watching Brittany walk all the way to her car and climb in.

When the blonde drives off and disappears out of sight, Santana lets out a long exhale through lips pursed into an 'o.'

Things aren't getting _any _easier.

* * *

She's walking to school the next morning when the headline of The New York Times catches her eye. Pausing in the middle of the pavement, she shrugs her backpack further up her shoulders, nudges her glasses further up her nose and steps closer to the newsstand, hand grabbing at the paper.

_Is there an __**ultimate **__mutant? One that can 'rule them all?'_

_William McKinley High School's columnist for 'The Muckraker' newspaper, Santana Lopez, may have come into contact with a possible suspect for the crown. See Page 4 for more._

Her eyes skim over the words several times, making sure what she's actually reading is real. No mistake, though, it's all there. An entire double page spread dedicated to her three released columns is printed in The New York fucking Times and now the whole of New York knows about her connection with the mystery teen mutant.

This was _so _not how it was supposed to go.

If New York knows, then Russel Fabray will know.

If Russel Fabray knows, he will find out that she wrote the article, which means he'll find out she knows the mutant.

And if he finds out she knows the mutant – she can't say for sure, obviously – but she's pretty sure he'll do anything to get his hands on her. Which not only puts her alter-ego in danger, but herself, too.

_Fuck._

Attempting to regulate her breathing, she sees a few hands grab for copies and suddenly gets an overwhelming urge to just sweep up all the copies, dart around every single newsstand and market selling newspapers and just throw them in the Hudson River, where no-one would be able to find or read them.

Who would do this, though? The New York Times wouldn't be interested in a small school newspaper unless someone had said something.

Keeping her head down, and praying that no-one she knows recognizes her, she flicks through to page four and begins to skim down the page, finding the source in a little bubble at the bottom right hand corner.

_Jacob Ben Israel._

Throwing the newsstand guy a dollar, Santana shoves the newspaper into her backpack and marches towards school.

* * *

By the time she gets into school, the parking lot is filled with news vans and reporters.

There's students being interviewed, and teachers standing by the sidelines, but pointedly sucking in their stomachs and looking incredibly neat for another day at school.

But of course, it's not just _another day at school, _is it? These news reporters are here for something. And that something is Santana.

Reaching behind her, she grabs the hood of her hoodie and throws it over her head. She slips her arm into the free arm strap and pulls her back pack up, keeping her chin ducked to her chest. If anyone sees her, they'll shout her name and she'll be swarmed by voice recorders and cameras. She's seen this stuff happen in movies, and on the news. She knows how it works.

Luckily, Santana makes it through the parking lot without being recognized.

Apparently there are perks to being a nerd; she's basically invisible.

* * *

Okay, so the invisible-because-she's-a-nerd nerd theory? Doesn't quite work out.

She's just climbed the stairs to the school, pulled her hood down and walked about five meters down the hallway when she hears someone yell, "THAT'S HER!"

Her first instincts are to run. To just run away as fast as she possibly can, but she acknowledges the flaws in that plan – flaws as in Santana being the clumsiest girl and would no doubt fall over mid-run, whilst the news crew catch it on candid camera and hello _YouTube_ – and so she figures it'd probably be safer to just walk away. _Fast _(and carefully.)

Darting around corners and ducking beneath students arms and around their bodies, Santana makes it as far as the cafeteria before she's bombarded.

Noah Puckerman, resident bad boy and one hell of an asshole, is heading straight for her, throwing an arm around her shoulder and pulling her tight against his body. Bright lights come into view next, then what seems like a hoard of news reporter armed with notepads, camera and those small little hand held recorders, and Santana's even sure she read one of the labels on the camera and saw that this was a live broadcast before her vision was taken away by freakishly bright lights.

She panics, not used to the limelight like this and tries to make herself as small as possible. If only she had a power that could shrink her size or make her turn invisible. That'd be _real _helpful right about now.

(Even though, yeah, she acknowledges the flaws in that plan, too.)

"...Me and Lopez have been friends for years." Puckerman's voice is loud in her ear and she flinches away from it. She also notices that his chest is like, twice the size it was last time and knows he's buffing it out to look bigger for the camera. What an idiot.

"I know she'll soon introduce me to the mystery mutant. We share everything so it's just a matter of time," he looks down to her and squeezes her bicep, trying to catch her attention. She glances up, scowling intently but he doesn't seem phased by it. How she wishes to just burn that stupid fucking mohawk of his head. "Isn't it Lopez?"

She doesn't reply, just scrunches her brows together and thinks about much of a wanker he is. They've never had a conversation in their lives, and hardly talked either. And even with the talking, the only time he's spoken to her is when he's laughing and walking away after a cherry icy facial. But even then that doesn't really count as a conversation or talking really.

The reporter ignores him, and turns her attention to Santana. She's small, five foot four maybe, and her hair's up in a tight bun. Her eyes are sharp and Santana just knows she's the kind of reporter that will shit on anyone to get to the top. As Santana examines her, and finds a CBS badge pinned to the right of her chest, she guesses the probability of that judgment is most likely true.

"So, Santana Lopez, how did you meet the mystery teen mutant?"

Words don't seem to be processing or forming in Santana's mind, and she ends up just stuttering and blinking furiously behind her glasses; these are one of the times she's _really _thankful for them. She can already feel heat burning behind her lids and knows she'd be blowing up the school if her glasses weren't on her face.

"Can you get her to have an interview with us?"

Another reporter asks the question this time, and Santana catches the Fox 5 badge on his chest. This guy's a little older than the rest, and she thinks he should probably get out the game because a student comes into the crowd and elbows him, and he shrinks away.

"Are you two close friends?"

It's another reporter, but a blonde one with her hair down and cascading over her shoulders. She doesn't even look like a damn reporter, and as Santana's eyes blink and drift down to the badge, she finds WNBC on there and figures that this is the kind of woman that just sleeps with everyone to get to the top.

It doesn't help with the whole words going from her brain to her mouth thing, because she's still standing there, beneath Puck's arm and spluttering syllables and letters, in what she thinks is most likely an unattractive manner. She doesn't know what to do though; everything's so loud in her ears and she wishes she could flick the super hearing off because every little thing like a reporter flipping a page in her notepad, or the camera men sniffling and zooming in, sounds like a gunshot in her ear and it's all too much.

It's kind of like stage fright, and she knows that even though she could fight her way out of this little crowd she's in, she can't really. She didn't think this would happen and she wasn't prepared and now she has absolutely no idea what to–

"_Excuse me... Please..." A huff of annoyance. "Can I just–whoa! Asshole! Do you mind if I–no, fine. Screw this. MOVE!"_

A smile creeps upon Santana's lips, and she cranes her neck to see the source of the voice but nothing comes into view. She's about to shove Puck away from her and look behind when a pale arm slides through the gap separating her and Puckerman, and then a body barges through and stands directly in front of her.

"_Brittany_."

Brittany peers over her shoulder and wraps an arm around Santana's waist backwards, securing their bodies together. Ignoring the warmth she feels spreading over her skin, Santana's hands instantly shoot out and settle on Brittany's hips, just along the waistband of her jeans. She takes in steady breaths, leaning forward and pressing her forehead to the back of Brittany's neck to hide her face and just listens.

"Santana won't be answering any questions today or any other day. Please stop bothering her. Thank you."

Santana grins into the fabric of Brittany's shirt and then the arm around her waist drops, bringing a little more room between them. A protest is halfway out her mouth when Brittany turns, Santana's hands moving with the twist and settling in the same position as before, only backwards. She glances up and meets blue eyes, gazing down at her from a small gap. She almost forgets anyone's even watching as Brittany's hand comes up to her cheek and cups it affectionately.

"Are you okay?" She asks, voice dripping with concern.

Santana manages a shaky nod and flexes her fingers against Brittany's hips. It's almost too familiar to the night back at the warehouse and releases her grip, hands dropping down by her side. "Yeah. I just wanna get out of here."

Brittany smiles softly, and Santana almost gets to returning it, but then a voice recorder is shoved in between them, causing them both to jolt back a little and that damn CBS reporter is back, the camera aimed straight at her and words already pouring out her mouth.

"Aren't you Brittany Pierce? The girl who was saved by this mystery mutant?"

Blue eyes grow wide and Santana doesn't even have a chance to tell the reporter where she can shove the recorder before warm fingers dance down the inside of her forearm, over her wrist and down her palm until they can tangle with her own fingers. She gasps lowly, head snapping up and eyes locking with Brittany's, but all Brittany does is nod at her once and then begins to move, tugging her out the crowd and away from it.

The further they get away from the crowd, the faster the crowd begins to walk and they're out by parking lot when all the reporters, camera-men and students begin to start into a slow jog. Santana panics a little, but then Brittany squeezes her hand and giggles, and Santana pretty much forgets about the reporters behind her.

They break into a run when four other reporters with news vans recognize them, and Santana gets this burst of adrenaline and excitement pulsing through her as Brittany laughs and shoves her hand into her jeans pocket, retrieving her car keys and opening the old, beaten up, baby blue Honda Civic in the corner of the lot.

Santana slides into the passenger seat, swiftly pressing down the lock and strapping on her seat belt as Brittany slips the key into the ignition and turns on the engine. They're both panting a little, their hearts are beating faster than usual and Santana almost starts smiling idiotically at the rhythm of Brittany's heart right then and there. But her thoughts are interrupted as an arm is thrown over the back of her seat, and Brittany turns to look out the rear view window as she pulls out the parking spot.

"Where are we going?" Santana asks, breathlessly, peering through the drivers side window at the reporters staring into the car.

Brittany takes her arm back and shifts the car into drive, reaching up to tap Santana's nose as they speed away from the crowd behind them. "We can't go to either of our houses so we're going to my aunties up in Mount Vernon."

"Wait... Is your auntie gonna be okay with that?" Santana shifts nervously in her seat. "I mean, I'm a stranger to them."

"They're in Boston at the moment, visiting some relatives. They're coming back next week," Brittany replies, eyes sliding towards Santana. "So we have the house to ourselves for as long as we want," a smirk plays at her lips. "You know, if you wanna be a bad ass and skip school."

Santana lets out a small chuckle and sits back in the seat when a comfortable silence sets in, her heart pounding for an entirely different reason than it was a minute ago.


	12. Part Twelve: Mount Vernon

**Title: **A Whole New World (With You) [Part Twelve]  
**Rating:** Hard R  
**Length: **5400

**Notes: **Right, I wasn't too sure about this chapter but I've added a little something-something, but it's not my usual and so I don't really know how I did. You'll know what I mean by the end. So please leave a little review at the end to comment on it, whether it's bad or good and thank you guys!

* * *

On the way up, they decide to stop at this little diner and have a bite to eat. Neither had had breakfast and apparently running away from reporters takes a lot out of you.

Brittany orders a cheeseburger and fries, and a chocolate milkshake on the side so she can dip her fries into them – don't knock it till you've tried it, it's not that bad – and Santana smirks at her from across the table before shrugging and telling the waitress to bring two of them.

They make conversation, about crazy reporters and about how much of an ass Puckerman is, all the while their hands are resting on the table, towards the center, about two or three inches apart and Santana gets this weird, fluttering feeling in her stomach whenever Brittany's eyes dart down to them.

She thinks she wants to hold her hand, because ever since they had to release their grip to jump into the car, Santana's hand has been tingling and yearning for the feel of Brittany's fingers sliding through hers. But she knows she doesn't quite have the guts and so just settles with the closeness of their hands instead.

The waitress comes and serves them their food, and Santana smiles and mutters a small thank you as the woman walks away, eyes flickering between Santana and Brittany like she's trying to figure something out. But Santana doesn't dwell on it too much and glances back to Brittany who has a few fries sticking out the side of her mouth.

It shouldn't make Santana laugh, but she does and Brittany smiles apologetically, telling her she's been wanting a burger for like three days now, and Santana tells her it's okay and shoves a few fries into her mouth, sticking them out the side purposely to make Brittany giggle.

It works, and the giggle makes Santana melt inside. She really loves making Brittany laugh.

The cheeseburgers are amazing, and Santana makes a mental note of this place for whenever she's craving a burger in the future – she could get here in like, under a second if she flew – and finishes up her burger. But when she looks up, she finds Brittany staring at her with an amused expression.

Instantly she becomes conscious and ducks her chin to her chest, eyes finding the fake marble table top. "What?" She asks, shyly.

Brittany chuckles lightly and leans over the table, standing slightly and tilting Santana's chin up. "You've got some sauce," she says, swiping her thumb underneath Santana's bottom lip and pulling her hand back, sitting back into her seat.

Without even a second of doubt, she brings her thumb up to her mouth and sucks the sauce off, and Santana all about dies. Her eyes grow wide and her jaw goes slack, and she stares as a naughty giggle comes from the girl across from her. Brittany bites her lip, and then picks up a few fries, pausing when they're right by her mouth and winks.

"Tasty," she mutters, and Santana gulps, grabbing a few fries and stuffing them in her mouth, so she can concentrate on something other than the warmth flooding through her and settling low in her belly.

* * *

They get to the house in Mount Vernon around midday.

Santana's eyebrows shoot up as the car pulls into the driveway. It has one of those cool ones, where it's in a crescent shape and there's an entrance and an exit, and Santana doesn't think she's ever been inside a house with one of these.

They both climb out the car, and Brittany has to come back to pull Santana by the wrist towards the house because she's just standing there, gazing up at it with an impressed expression.

"Come on, dopey," Brittany teases and Santana's brain only kick starts into action when fingers slide down her wrist and tangle with her own.

She's pulled through the front door and urged into the living room, and Brittany walks back to the foyer to close the door, leaving her alone for a while. She just stands in silence, brown eyes roaming around the room, and she can't quite believe how freaking big this place it. It's not like, a mansion, but compared to her two bedroom house just outside of Union City, it's fucking _huge. _

She's actually pretty sure this room alone is bigger than her entire house.

There's even a damn deer head above the fireplace, and she's sure only rich people have them 'cause she's seen it in the movies.

"You're gonna start catching flies soon," comes from beside her and she turns to see Brittany beside her, so close their noses might as well be touching. "Come on, let me give you a tour."

Santana just lets herself be dragged away from the living room.

* * *

Turns out the house and garden/pool area is so big it takes a good two hours to go around the whole thing.

Well, okay, maybe not two hours, but there were just some things that they couldn't _not _do when they were presented with the opportunity.

Like jumping on a king sized bed. This thing, is like, freaking _huge. _Apparently it's 6ft wide and 7ft long, and when it first came into sight, Santana stood there like a spare prick, gawping at this enormous bed and craved nothing more than to just jump on the damn thing. And when Brittany did it first, star style with her limbs sprawled out, Santana thought _fuck it _and did the same.

That, of course, ended up in them jumping on the bed and taking turns in touching the ceiling, and without Brittany knowing, Santana may have added a little mutant spring in her jump so her fingertips pressed against the swirled pattern on the ceiling. Brittany stared, amazed that such a small person could reach it and Santana feigned offense, before poking the other girl in the ribs.

And _obviously _that led to a _very _flirtatious tickling match which ended up in them rolling around in the bed until Brittany got the upper hand and straddled Santana's hips, pressing down with enough pressure that it distracted Santana and her eyes nearly bulged out her damn head as her hands were pinned above her head.

They'd stared at each other, Brittany's eyes darkening and Santana's lips drying at the close proximity of the other girl, and Santana swears that if she had a nickel for every time she thought Brittany wanted to kiss her, she'd be a damn millionaire by now. Blue eyes kept darting down and focusing on Santana's lips for a split second too long, before returning to brown ones and Santana wondered why Brittany didn't just _kiss _her.

But then Brittany would break the moment, roll off Santana and tell her that they should continue their tour, and as Santana shuffled to the edge of the bed and watched the other girl walk out the door, she wondered why _she _didn't just kiss her instead.

* * *

Somehow they manage to keep their distance from each other for seven hours before they have another one of those 'moments.'

Except this time the moment goes a little further than just a 'moment.'

They're sitting outside on the lounge chairs by the pool, and the temperature dropped by like, ten degrees a while ago and so Brittany headed inside to grab a blanket. She only managed to find one though, and despite Santana's insistence that she wasn't cold – she never is, but Brittany doesn't know that – Brittany lifted the arms of the lounge chairs up and tilted the back so the chair was horizontal, and basically turned it into a sofa with no back.

Due to the swimming pool being heated, it provided some warmth to their cold feet and Santana suggested they shuffle closer and stick their feet in the pool, and so they took off their shoes and socks and did just that.

So, now they're sitting side by side, pressed up against each other with this blanket draped across both their shoulders, and their feet are dipped into the pool. The sky is dark, and the only light provided is the ones underwater, and they haven't really been talking, but recently they've been hanging out so much they don't need to talk.

It's a comfortable silence and with the combination of a little nudging match with their elbows, it keeps them both entertained.

"We can keep going on like this forever, you know," Santana tells the blonde, nudging her back. Brittany giggles and scrunches up her nose. "I'm pretty stubborn."

"Well so am I," Brittany purrs back. "So bring it on, Lopez."

Santana takes it as a challenge, and her eyes flicker between the pool and Brittany and before the protest can even come out of Brittany's mouth, Santana throws the blanket off them, grabs the girl's hips and pulls both of them into the pool, both of their laughter disappearing as they're submerged under water.

She comes up first, bursting into a giggle fit as Brittany thrashes around and then comes up too, spluttering water and a mix of indecipherable words, shock written across her face. Wiping the water from her eyes, Santana drops her arms and waves her hands around in the figure eight beside her, keeping herself elevated in the water and she can't seem to stop laughing at Brittany's expression.

"Santana!" Brittany whines through her giggles. "That wasn't fair!"

Santana continues to laugh as the other girl swims towards her, and Brittany's eyes narrow as she gets closer and closer, their legs bumping from where they're trying to keep their head above water.

"I never said I played fair," Santana manages to get out after the laughing has died down.

Brittany stops in front of her, her hands swishing around in the water close to Santana and Santana feels something change in the air. It's not a normal change, nor is it bad, it's just unexpected. And before she can even tell herself not to do it, she's taking her hand out the water and pushing back the wet hair from Brittany's face.

And that's when she knows she wants nothing more than to just give into her cravings and momentarily forget about of all her insecurities.

So she does just that.

"Britt," she whispers, and Brittany's eyes flicker to her, the laughter from her mouth dying down.

And then they look at each other, and the smile on Brittany's face begins to fade the longer they stare, and by ten seconds there's no smile and they're just left gazing into each others eyes. She feels the air around them warm up, and Santana lets her powers take over to keep her elevated as she licks her own lips and lets her eyes drift down to Brittany's.

Brittany's lips tilt up at the side, and Santana doesn't give her time to back out or say anything before she's leaning in and tilting her head, their noses bumping once before she shifts and lets her top lip settle between both of Brittany's.

She just holds still, feeling her hand tremble where it's placed on Brittany's jaw, and squeezes her eyes shut, sending a prayer to the heavens that when she pulls away, Brittany won't slap her and kick her out the house.

But then she feels Brittany's lips move and _holy shit, _Brittany's kissing her back.

Brittany smiles against her mouth, and tilts her head further, her hand coming up to wrap around Santana's neck whilst the other rests above her heart. Their lips brush over each other carefully, getting used to the feel of each others lips and Santana can feel Brittany's heart pounding against her chest as she presses against her.

Kissing Brittany is by far the best thing she's ever experienced. And she's done many things; she's flown, she's climbed the Empire State Building, she's traveled to England and come back within two hours. Hell, she's even saved someone's _life, _but none of that feels as good as this does, with Brittany's lips wrapped around her bottom one, and Brittany sucking lightly.

It's like nothing she's ever experienced, and she swears she's never going to get enough of it.

One of them, Santana doesn't know, slips or forgets to keep paddling and they dip underwater. They both come up chuckling, and Brittany shoots her a quick smile before pulling them to the edge of the pool and Santana presses the girl into the wall, hands gripping at the concrete to keep themselves steady as their mouths come together in a soft kiss that tastes of strawberries and the flavored water they were drinking earlier.

They kiss, and kiss, until they have to pull back for air; but even then, Brittany keeps her within close proximity and pecks her lips over and over, only pulling apart when she slips again and Santana has to latch onto her to keep her up.

"Wait," Santana mumbles into the other girl's mouth, and drops one hand from the edge of the pool to grab at Brittany's leg underwater despite the fact that Brittany continues to kiss her. She hitches it up against her thigh and the blonde stills, blue eyes widening, but soon enough she catches on and wraps both legs around Santana's waist, grinning widely. "There we go."

"Well who knew Santana Lopez was so forward," Brittany says, draping her arms over Santana's shoulders. "I kinda like it."

Santana smirks and cocks a brow, bringing their mouths back together and kissing Brittany. This time she's a little bolder; parting the other girl's lips and slipping her tongue inside her mouth, tracing it along the sharp edges of her teeth and flicking it against the roof of her mouth until she hears her whimper.

She pulls back, but her smile is swiftly covered by Brittany's lips; and she just can't help herself when her hands reach down to grab at the blonde girl's ass, squeezing and flexing her fingers against the flesh.

And Brittany moans.

And it shoots straight through Santana and marks warmth pool low in her belly.

Soon enough, they're rocking back and forth into the kiss, each one getting a little more sloppy as long, pale fingers wind around damp, dark locks and tighten with every flick of the tongue. Their kisses slow, until they're just trading turns in pecking small ones against each others and then Santana's eyes squeeze shut when Brittany begins to trail a line of them down her jaw, down her neck and up her throat again.

It's all too much. Too hot. Too fast. Too dangerous.

Santana can feel the heat coil inside of her and knows if she weren't careful, she could hurt Brittany. There's no way she can lose control, and sure, she's only ever done this once; but that was with Sam and it was before a friendly virginity loss scheme they'd come up with when the news that he and his family were moving away, and both of them realized they were still virgins and didn't want to lose it to someone sleazy or dirty.

(Sam had told her a story about one of his friends who worked in a stripper joint and lost it to _Crystal Chandelier _after one too many shots, and apparently this friend had regretted it.

And _God, _Santana's a nerd, but there was no way in hell she was going to be the next forty year old virgin or lose it to someone gross.)

But even then, after the deed was done, Sam had several bruises on his body and Santana hadn't exactly enjoyed the whole experience because she was so focused on _not _hurting Sam that her mind wasn't really in it.

And having to lie and say she was nervous and got a little rough – the reason behind the bruises – was just _so _embarrassing. He didn't, and still to this day, doesn't know that she has superpowers, and at the time when he peered down his body and found several discolorations of his skin, that was all Santana could think of as an explanation.

All in all? It was a pretty awful experience.

So now, having all these heated moments with Brittany, and receiving these kisses which are making her damn toes tingle – who knew kisses could do that? – she's fearing the worst. The last thing she wants is to harm Brittany, and she thinks that's most definitely a possibility.

"Britt..." she pants, eyes fluttering as a tongue sweeps across her pulse point. "Britt, wait."

Brittany pulls back, eyes a dark navy in this light and lips swollen and a dark red. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing... Nothing just–I," she licks her lips, tasting the other girl on them. The coil in her stomach tightens. "We should go slow."

A light eyebrow arches. "Slow?" Brittany repeats, head tilting and eyes narrowing into slits. "Wait... Are you..." Her eyebrows furrow and she worries her bottom teeth between her lips. "Are you a virgin?"

Santana's reactions are sharp and jerky as she shakes her head. "No... I mean, I've only done it once before–"

"With Quinn?"

Well _that _was unexpected.

Santana's eyes almost bulge straight out her head and her jaw drops open, arms loosening until Brittany slinks out of them, legs skimming down the back of her jeans, feet planting on the floor of the pool. Apparently during their make out session they'd moved into shallower water.

"No..." she draws out the word. "Why would you say that?"

Brittany rolls her shoulders in a small hug and her hands slip from Santana's hair to her collarbone, fingers drumming along the ridge lightly. "I don't know..." she mutters, keeping her eyes on Santana's neck. "You two just seem really... Close. Just thought maybe you–No, I mean–I don't know," she shrugs again.

Tilting her head to the side, Santana takes a moment to study every inch of the other girl's face. She looks at her eyes, and how they're pointedly _not _meeting hers. She looks at how Brittany's teeth gnaw lightly on her bottom lip and then thinks about how she shrugged, almost saddened by the thought that maybe she and Quinn had got together at some point.

Then it clicks.

Brittany's _jealous._

The realization brings this weird noise to erupt from the center of her chest. It's half-way between a laugh and half-way between a scoff, and Santana almost side eyes herself because she doesn't know where the hell that came from.

Blue eyes snap up, and Brittany's face hardens as she watches Santana laugh at her. Not with her. But _at _her.

"There's no need to laugh, Santana," she says, lowly, anger edging into her tone. "I don't care if you did, I'd just like to know."

Santana's laughter begins to die down, and she finally takes in how _serious _the other girl is. Her expression drops, and her hand comes up to Brittany's face, cupping her cheek and thumb running over the smooth skin there. "I never slept with Quinn. We're not–definitely _not–_like that. We're friends."

Brittany bites her lips, seeming unsure as her eyes glance up through eyelashes. "But you two are like, always together. Even at the funeral and you said you never go out but you two were at the park, playing basketball and stuff."

Her voice trails off and something in the left side of Santana's chest clenches, but it's not painful. Sweet, in fact. Brittany really cares about her.

"First of all, we're just friends. I rarely see Q out of school, maybe twice since she came to McKinley, if that." She winds her spare arm around Brittany's waist, hand pressing against the lower part of her back. Brittany stays focused on her face, her arms trapped between their bodies, hands resting on tanned skin beneath collarbones. "And I don't usually go out, but this time I couldn't go training and Quinn wanted to get out the house. So we went to the park, and I brought my basketball to play for a bit. She just sat on the floor reading whilst I shot some hoops."

Brittany's face softens, her eyes too, and Santana can tell she's starting to believe her. It's not like she shouldn't, what she just said was true. "You're just friends?"

"Just friends."

Brittany smiles and Santana waggles her eyebrows once until a grin breaks through on the other girl's face. They both lean in and meet in the middle, their smiles disappearing against lips and shifting until Brittany parts them and slides her tongue through Santana's, and seconds later, they're making out slow and steadily, the best way possible.

Except Brittany pulls back abruptly, eyes curious and brows pulled together. "Wait, who did you sleep with then?"

Santana rolls her eyes, chuckles and kisses the blonde again. "Sam," she kisses her again. "It was once," she does it again. "A friend thing."

Brittany's arms loop around her neck again and they kiss for a moment, long, slow and so, _so _deep. "A friend thing?" She asks, mumbled against Santana's mouth. "Do friends sleep together?"

"I don't know." The words are muffled. "We just kind wanted to get it over and done with."

Santana slides her hands over the curve of Brittany's ass and down the back of her thighs, gripping them gently and tugging upwards until long, pale legs are more secure around her waist. She moves them up to the shallower end of the water and keeps kissing her, tongue dipping past lips and sliding across another, producing moans Santana's only ever heard in movies.

(And not the legal kind of movies, either.)

"Was it not weird?" Brittany asks, but her voice is raspy and it doesn't sound like she's too invested in talking. Not whilst Santana's tongue is in her mouth. "Like, the next day?"

"Nope."

That's not even a lie, either.

It was the day before Sam's family was moving away, and so after they did their thing, Santana hugged and kissed Sam on the cheek goodbye and waved him off when he left the next morning. That was the extent of their awkwardness, and even then, Santana hadn't really thought about how awkward it could've been, so that probably lessened it a little.

"So," Brittany can't seem to stop kissing Santana and threads her fingers through dark hair, securing their faces together as her lips keeping pecking at Santana's. "Why did you" – another kiss – "do it?"

They get to the shallowest end of the pool, and Santana lifts the girl out the water, placing her on the side of the pool – out the water – whilst her legs still dangle inside. Her hands reach for Brittany's top and she pushes it up, Brittany leaning back and propping up onto her elbows, chin tucked to her chest as blue eyes watch Santana's every movement.

She rocks onto the balls of her feet to kiss up the smooth expanse of skin, and kisses, soft and reverent, press up until her top lip bumps the underwire of Brittany's bra, but even then she comes back down again, feeling the blonde's abs twitch beneath each touch of her lips.

"Like I said," she kisses the space below Brittany's belly button and hears a sharp gasp. She smirks against pale skin. "Wanted to get it over and done with."

Hands come to her shoulders and tug her up, and she smiles into the kiss Brittany pulls her into, her hands lightly squeezing strong thighs whilst a pale hand cups the back of her neck and deepens the kiss. Their tongues stroke together and when teeth nip at her lower lip, the coil inside her stomach tightens to the point where she thinks something is about to explode.

She breaks the kiss, reeling back far enough so that the other girl sees the question as she reaches for Brittany's shirt, fingers hovering on the hem. Licking her lips, the blonde nods once and a surge of excitement surges through Santana. She grins, leaning up to suck gently on Brittany's bottom lip before stand back in the water and pulling the girl's top off.

The bra she's wearing leaves barely anything to the imagination, and Santana takes a long moment just to stare in awe at Brittany's body.

It's not like it's the first time she's seen it – hello accidental X-ray vision? – but seeing it through those goggles and in real life are incredibly different.

Brittany's fucking _hot._

And not in the derogatory manner that most people use that term in. Brittany's fit, with a toned stomach and a dip running up the center towards her cleavage that can only come from years of some type of exercise, but she still has the curves to accentuate her femininity. Her boobs are just the right size – anything above a handful is just a waste – and Santana isn't aware until a giggle flows into her ear that she's just standing there with her jaw slack and wide eyes, gazing.

Can you really blame her though? She's been in love with this girl for fifteen years, give or take, and now, for some unknown reason, luck has struck her and Brittany likes her back. Or, well, Brittany likes her enough to let her kiss and touch her in a way that 'just friends' wouldn't allow.

"Are you just going to stand there all evening or are you gonna do something?" Brittany asks, so forwardly it catches Santana off and she has to blink and repeat the words in her mind at least three or four times before she's nodding frantically and lifting up to kiss the blonde girl again.

Their kiss is swift, but deep, and Santana pulls away, only to trail kisses down the slope of a pale neck and down Brittany's body. It's when she's trailing her tongue above the waistband of Brittany's leggings that Brittany's body arches into her lips, and Santana smirks as she feels confidence flow through her, and begins to strip the girl of her pants.

Then Brittany's sitting on the edge of the pool, leaning back on her elbows and biting her lip in nothing but underwear.

And _holy crap_, is that one hell of a sight.

"You're..." Santana breathes and swallows, mesmerized by the girl before her. "You're gorgeous."

She hears the blood rush to Brittany's face before she sees it, and glance up at her through her eyelashes.

There's a smile on Brittany's face, a small one, sure, but one that takes Santana's breath away, and she doesn't quite know how she got this damn lucky. Blue eyes sparkle in the darkness and when two hands come up to cradle her jaw, she leans in to kiss the smile away and allows her hands to dance up the inside of Brittany's thighs until they bump the edge of Brittany's panties.

And then it hits her how _not _nervous she is. It's weird, because she's sure she should be shaking and should be scared, but it just feels so right that even as she hooks her fingers into the string of Brittany's thong, and slips it down her legs when Brittany lifts her hips from the tiles surrounding the edge of the pool, she can't help but feel nothing but pure happiness.

Santana leans up one more time, pressing their mouths together and pushing her tongue through Brittany's lips one more time before kissing her way down her body again. She stops at Brittany's cleavage, shifting and pulling down the cup of her bra to suck a nipple into her mouth and brush her tongue over it. Brittany's back arches and Santana smirks into the skin, dusting kisses across her chest before doing the same to the other breast.

Then hands come up and tug lightly at her hair and she knows it's time.

Without a seconds hesitation, she lifts Brittany's thighs over her shoulders, spares one final look and then lowers her mouth, flicking her tongue out like she's been doing it for years and watches as Brittany throws her head back.

The entire time she keeps her eyes on Brittany's face, the way her eyes are clenched shut, the way her lips are parted and how there's a sexy little flush in her cheeks that almost drives Santana to the edge right then and there.

It's only a few moments later when Brittany's back arches, her fingers twist and tighten into dark hair and Santana has to press one hand to the flat of Brittany's stomach to keep her hips down. Only a few seconds later, she pushes into the girl with two fingers, keeping a steady rhythm whilst her mouth focuses on the most sensitive part, and then Brittany's eyes are snapping open, a cry is coming from her mouth and Santana sees release wash over the girl as she falls gently back down to the tiles, a small whimper escaping her lips as she brings her down slowly with soft laps.

* * *

"Fuck," she hears and grins when blue eyes flutter open, and Brittany tilts her head up, still panting and gazes at Santana with heavy eyelids. "Are you sure you haven't done that before?"

Santana grins and pulls gently at Brittany's thighs until the blonde girls slides into the pool, and then they're kissing again, hot and open mouthed and Santana can feel the coil tightening again until it almost hurts as arms wrap around her neck. She smiles into the kiss, and knows there's really nothing better than this.

Being here with Brittany.

Being here and being like _this _with Brittany.

It's just incredible.

They kiss hot and lazily for a good few moments, before Brittany's hand loosens from around her neck and slides between her legs, fiddling with the button on her jeans. Their lips stay together, and somehow before she knows it her soaking clothes are being thrown to the side of the pool and Brittany's hand is dipping beneath the waistband of her girl boxers and slipping over her like this isn't the first time they've been together.

It doesn't take long, because it's been a while since someone touched her and _fuck, _it's fucking _Brittany _touching her. The pressure builds at the base of her spine and she can feel her kisses becoming a little sloppy as two long fingers slide deep into her and push her towards the edge, _fast_.

Barely a minute later she's breaking the kiss, squeezing her eyes shut and rolling her hips forward as her orgasm punches through her. Her forehead presses hard into Brittany's and she's moaning, her teeth biting down on her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, and can feel Brittany's breath on her mouth.

Then a hand is stroking over her forehead, and the other is coming out from between her legs, and she's opening her eyes, staring into deep blue eyes and being pulled into a kiss that she just can't help but smile into.

* * *

**Thank you for all your reviews by the way! You guys are awesome!**


	13. Part Thirteen: Indecision

**Title: **A Whole New World (With You) [Part Thirteen]  
**Rating:** R  
**Length: **5100

**Notes: **Thank you for all your reviews guys! You've been awesome and I hope you're enjoying the story so far! And just to let you know, this is where it picks up on the plot :)

* * *

It's an hour later, and they're out the pool, changed into some cotton pajamas they found in one of the drawers and sitting on one of the lounge chairs by the pool, watching the water together. Santana's taken the position of the big spoon, and Brittany's between her legs, playing with the tanned fingers and hands resting on her stomach.

They've been asking each other random questions like favorite color and first kiss for the past half hour, and it's been nothing but entertaining, getting to know each other like this.

"Favorite actress?"

Santana pinches her lips up at the side and lets her head fall against the back of the chair. "Hmmm..." she contemplates and then grins. "Charlize Theron."

Brittany turns slightly in her arms until she can look at her. "Really? In what?"

"In everything. She was like, super hot in _The Italian Job _though."

Brittany grins, shakes her head lightly and turns back. "Wouldn't have chosen her for you," she says, and begins to run her fingers through Santana's. "Didn't think she was your type."

"You're surprised I have a thing for blondes?" Santana smirks, leaning forward and resting her chin on a shoulder.

The blush can't be seen but it can be heard. Brittany ducks her chin to her chest and snuggles back, pulling Santana's arms right around her until they're so close together it's hard to see where one person ends and one begins.

"No," the other girl whispers, lowly, turning until Santana's lips are almost brushing her cheek. "I just didn't think Charlize Theron would be your type."

"I don't have a type," Santana explains with a shrug, urging Brittany's fingers out and then tangling their fingers together before pulling it back to the girl's stomach.

"There's no link between all your exes? Like, eyes or hair, or height, or anything?" Brittany asks, twisting again.

Santana leans in and kisses her cheek. "I've never had a girlfriend, or a boyfriend," she tells her and pulls back when fair eyebrows push together. "What?"

"There must be," Brittany says, and tilts her head back again Santana's shoulder so her breath beats against her jaw. "I mean, all your crushes. What did they look like?"

Santana stills. She doesn't want to tell Brittany that she's never actually had any other crushes apart from her; that seems a little strange, doesn't it? It makes her feel like she's a bit creepy, being in love with someone for that freaking long and never having the guts to tell her. Santana just doesn't want Brittany to think she's a wimp and that she's been like, stalking her for the past fifteen years. She hasn't, but she can see how admitting about her feelings and the length of time she's had those feelings could seem like that.

So instead she just settles for a shrug. "All different."

Brittany doesn't push any further and slowly smiles up at her. Santana narrows her eyes and suddenly feel a little self conscious, so she asks, "What?"

"You're just really cute," the blonde girl replies and she's already leaning up, so Santana meets her halfway and sighs into the kiss given, only pulling back to tip their foreheads together. "That's all."

"You're not so bad yourself, you know," Santana purrs and licks her lips before hands are pulling her down and bringing their mouths together in a hot and heavy kiss that spreads throughout her entire body.

They don't make it into bed this time either, and Santana would protest about neighbors seeing, but then Brittany's turning in her arms, pulling away from the kiss and reaching between their bodies to push past the fabric barriers and stroke over hot, wet flesh, and really? She can't complain.

Especially when Brittany smirks, tugs off her pajama pants and panties and slides down her body to flick her tongue out against her.

* * *

It's a little while later, and they both climb into the bed in the spare bedroom, except Brittany's shivering and Santana's toasty warm. The blonde curls onto her side, facing the wall and Santana slides in behind her, looping an arm around her waist and pulling their bodies close together. Her nose buries into Brittany's hair, and she snuggles down, feeling the girl shudder in her arms when she dusts a kiss across Brittany's shoulder.

"Are you still cold?" She shifts closer and feels Brittany's ass fit into the curves of her hips.

"A little," the other girl twists in her arms until they're facing each other. "How are you so warm?"

Santana tries to think of an answer that isn't _I don't feel the cold because I have mutant DNA _and can only come up with a small shrug.

"I don't know. Just lucky I guess," she smiles and squashes their noses together, grinning.

Brittany smiles and leans in, kissing her softly, hands curling around the fabric of her t-shirt to pull her closer. "Actually I think I'm the lucky one," she mumbles against her mouth.

"Definitely not," she disagrees, head shaking slightly.

Brittany's lips part to argue, so Santana takes the opportunity to lean forward and suck the other girl's bottom lip between her own, still not quite believing that she can do that now. Brittany smiles into the kiss and curls her hand around the back of her Santana's head, deepening the kiss and stroking her tongue languidly over Santana's, all the while Santana holds her closer by the hip and thinks how amazing it'd be to do this all the time.

And a million thoughts suddenly shoot through her mind.

What does tonight mean for them?

They haven't even talked about all the complications about feelings and status of 'things' between them.

They haven't talked about either of their sexuality, nor have they talked about where this is leading.

Santana's mind begins to wander and she feels her kisses get a little sloppy. She squeezes her eyes shut, suddenly scared. Scared of everything and clings to Brittany to steady herself. The lips on hers pull away, and she doesn't open her eyes, just keeps herself to keep breathing evenly as hands stroke over her face and lips press to the crease in her eyebrows.

"What's wrong?" Brittany whispers, and Santana melts at the sound of her voice.

She cracks open her eyes just that tiniest of bits, and then there's Brittany right in front of her. There's Brittany, staring at her with the softest of blues Santana's ever seen and rubbing her thumb over her cheek like she truly cares.

So she smiles, shakes her head and presses her lips to Brittany's, whispering, "Nothing because you're here," into them.

And for now, that's enough for Santana.

* * *

She wakes up in the morning to what she might think is the best thing in the world.

Brittany's not beside her, which instantly makes her panic and wonder how Brittany could just leave her out here in this strange house, because Brittany doesn't know she's a mutant and if she were human, that'd mean either one hell of a walk or on expensive cab fare home.

But then the en-suite bathroom door is opening and Brittany's stepping out, her hair tied into a messy bun above her head which makes Santana's body sizzle with arousal because it's just a reminder of what they spent the night doing, and she's grinning at Santana like she's the best thing in the world with only a towel covering her still damp body.

Santana gulps and sits up, pulling the covers with her so it doesn't expose anything. "Hey," she croaks out, rubbing her eyes and wondering where her glasses went.

"Hi," the other girl replies, and abandons whatever she was doing in favor of coming over to Santana. Which, obviously, Santana doesn't have a problem with and smiles into the kiss Brittany gives her as the blonde girl takes a seat beside her hip. "How are you?" Brittany asks when she pulls back, and rakes her fingers through Santana's hair.

"Amazing," Santana replies honestly, humming a little and closing her eyes at the feel of Brittany scratching lightly against her scalp. "And you?"

Brittany laughs and scrunches up her nose, letting the hand in dark locks drift down to tap at Santana's nose. "Me too," she beams and Santana can't help but lick her lips and then lean into the other girl, their mouths fusing together in a slow but sure kiss.

Santana pulls back, dizzied and awed and grins lazily. She's just about to tell the other girl how unbelievably beautiful she looks this morning, and then maybe join her for a shower when the TV catches her eye. Her entire attention is focused on that and her mouth drops at the same time her stomach does when the anchor announces the headline of today's news.

"_The whole of New York City is buzzing today with the news of a 'mystery teen mutant' who possesses more powers than any other mutant we've seen coming out. More on that at ten."_

A hand brings her from her daze, and her eyes meet concerned blue as Brittany cups her cheek. "Are you okay?"

For a second Santana thinks about how well Brittany knows her and can tell her emotions from a single expression. It makes her heart flutter, but that's enough to shake her out of it. "It's out?"

"Yeah," Brittany nods, weakly. "I saw it on the nine o'clock news a while ago but I didn't want to wake and worry you."

Santana understands and offers a small smile, but doesn't hesitate in shifting and climbing off the bed, bringing the sheet with her to keep her concealed. Her eyes find her now dry clothes on the chair in the corner, hands following shortly after, and she gathers them in her arms as blue eyes follow her every movement. She heads to the bathroom, turning to apologize with a smile but Brittany's just staring at her with this _you're leaving? _expression and she literally drops everything to walk back to Brittany and kneel in front of her.

"Britt," she says and grabs pale hands, holding them between her own. "I'm sorry I've just gotta–"

"You've got to protect your friend," Brittany bobs her head up and down like she gets it but her eyes contradict it. "It's fine. Honestly," she tries and Santana squints, lips pinching up at the side. "Just go. It's fine."

She's said fine two times in that sentence and that's like the world's rule of saying _no, _it's not _fine, _but Santana needs to talk to Holly. She needs to come up with someway to distract the population of New York City to think about something that isn't Santana, because it won't take long for the photos she put up in _The Muckraker_ to get to _The New York Times_and then comparisons will take place between students and the picture.

Reporters don't give up easily – it's one of the main reasons why Santana's parents were recognized in the first place, and that led to their coming out – and she doesn't want the same fate as them. She's never wanted the lime light or the fame, because in her experience it's only ended badly and forgive her for wanting to live a normal life.

Now she's torn, though. Now she's torn because on one hand she wants nothing more than to sort this mess out, and talk to Holly and make sure she's all in the clear. But on the other, Brittany's staring at her, sitting on a bed that merely hours ago they were tangled up in naked, panting against each others mouths and working their fingers between each others legs, and Santana just wants to stay here. She just wants to be with Brittany. To stay with her, hold her hand, cuddle her and kiss her.

She just wants that but she knows which one she _has _to do; then the other one can follow it, hopefully.

A girl's got to do what a girl's got to do, even when what she has to do _sucks._

"I'll call you later," she promises, swallowing against the thickness lining her throat as Brittany's bottom lip pokes out a little, her eyes falling onto their tangled fingers. "And I will, Britt," she slides one hand out of the girl's grasp to tilt Brittany's chin up, eyes finding eyes again. "This isn't a one night thing for me, you know. I really will call you tonight... I just have to sort this" – she nudges her head towards the TV – "out first."

Brittany's face brightens a little, and she squeezes Santana's hands, nodding. "Okay."

"Okay?" Santana parrots, eyebrows lifting.

"Yeah, okay. I trust you."

Those words make Santana smile and she rocks onto the balls of her feet, leaning up to suck on Brittany's bottom lip quickly before pulling back and picking up her clothes, heading toward the bathroom to change.

* * *

The bedroom's empty when Santana comes back out.

Scratching her eyebrows, she grabs her glasses from the side table then heads downstairs and finds Brittany at the stove in the kitchen, wearing shorts and a tank top that rides up when she reaches into a cupboard above to grab a plate. A smile grows across her face and she crosses one ankle over the other, arms doing the same across her chest as her shoulder presses against the door frame and head tilting to just watch Brittany because why the hell wouldn't she? Brittany's beautiful to watch, even when she's doing something mundane, and Santana's sure she could spend all day just watching her.

But then Brittany turns around, her eyes sparkling as they meet Santana's, and a grin tugs at her lips. She bounds over to her, arms draping over her shoulders and around her neck, tugging. Santana goes with it and shifts closer, their feet shuffling together and her hands going to the base of Brittany's back as their foreheads come together, eyes darting between eyes.

Blue is all she can see and she stares for a long moment, silence around them until it just gets too much and she stretches her neck, coaxing Brittany into a kiss that Brittany giggles into. The kiss is slow, and lazy, but in the best way possible and as a warm tongue slides into Santana's mouth, she has to think whether the whole of New York City knowing is so bad that Santana has to leave Brittany to go and sort it out.

Except it is, and Santana breaks the kiss reluctantly, bumping their noses together affectionately and giving in one last time to plant a kiss to pink lips.

"That was good," Brittany murmurs, tongue poking out to run along her lips.

Santana hums a little. "It was," she says, scrunching the fabric of Brittany's top up where her hands are at the base of her back. "Better than a hello, too."

Brittany laughs and brushes back some fallen hair. "I made you breakfast."

"You made me breakfast?"

"Pancakes," she continues, smiling but it falters at Santana's expression. "You like them right?"

Santana nods furiously and kisses her. "I love them. You just... You didn't have to."

"I thought it'd be nice," Brittany says, lifting a shoulder. "You know, after... I just thought it'd be nice."

Santana grins and is about to press their lips together again when her phone buzzes in her pocket. She reaches down, fishes it out and a preview of the text comes up on the screen. It's from Holly and her face drops, arm slipping down a little from Brittany's back until it's resting just shy of her butt, and her eyes re-read the text again.

_Just saw the news. We need to speak pronto..._

It trails off there and Santana doesn't need to open it to read the rest. Inside her chest, her heart picks up a little and a kiss to her temple makes her look up into blue eyes again.

"What's wrong?"

Santana inhales deeply. "I've gotta go. Gotta go... See someone."

The arms around her shoulders go slack and Santana steps away, glancing around for her coat and finding it on a hangar in the living room. She gets to it, picking it up and throws it around her shoulders as Brittany follows her to the doorway. When the front door's open, Santana turns around and lets her hands settle on the other girl's waist, pulling her a little closer when she sees the inscrutable expression on Brittany's face.

It's between emotions. Sad and something else that Santana can't figure out and she pauses, trying to figure it out for a long moment before it's wiped off and Brittany offers a smile that can't pass for being legitimate. It kind of worries Santana and she drops her hands, choosing to zip her coat up to cover the rejection she feels. Everything was going fine, and now it feels all kinds of weird. What the hell?

"How are you gonna get home?" Brittany asks, and her arms are crossed over her chest now.

"I'll catch a cab from town."

Brittany nods but moves forward when Santana steps onto the stoop, hand coming up to high on the edge of the door whilst Santana stuffs her hands into her jacket pocket.

"I'll call you later," Santana tells her, and Brittany nods but there's something else there. She doesn't know what, though and leans forward, kissing the blonde girl's cheek quickly before twisting back and heading down the stoop and down the street. She gets out of view, into a little field beside someones house, before gathering all the energy she has and flying home at lightening speed, ensuring no human eye can pick up on the movement.

And after Brittany shuts the door and heads back inside, she picks up the frying pan containing the pancakes and heads towards the bin. She steps on the lever that opens the bin, tipping them in and throws them away, then leans against the counter, burying her face into her hands and lets the tears flow.

Santana forgot about the pancakes.

* * *

"_Hola, chica."_

Santana smiles but bypasses the greeting and takes a seat in her desk chair. "Hey, Holly. So you saw the news?"

"_I did. And you need to do something about it."_

"I already have. Deleted all the pictures on the hard drive at school but people still have copies of _The Muckraker _with photos of me in it."

"_Are the photos obviously of you?"_

Santana shakes her head and leans forward, elbows onto the desk. "I Photoshop'd them so my face was hidden. People at school didn't recognize me so I doubt _The New York Times _will."

"_Santana... _The New York Times _have specialists in this kind of thing. They're hired specifically to find people who just pop up in the news. A bunch of school kids have nothing on them." _Holly pauses for a second. _"This isn't exactly the smartest thing you've ever done, hot lips."_

"I know," Santana sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. "I just didn't think it'd get out."

"_Most things in school newspapers don't, but there's always an exception."_

Santana drops her hands and forehead to the desk. "What am I gonna do?" She says, the words muffled against the wood. "I can't be found out."

"_Girl, you've just gotta hope that no-one finds you."_

"Can't you do anything?"

"_I'll call _The Times_ but I can't promise anything, chica."_

"Thanks," Santana says through a long exhale and picks her head up. "I know I shouldn't have written about it but it felt good to be appreciated for once."

"_You're appreciated by the people that mean something, Santana. Don't let yourself get down over a few assholes at school. And this will sort itself out, don't worry. It may be in today's newspapers but tomorrow there'll be something about Mitt Romney and his conquest of being the world's biggest douchebag."_

Santana lets out a small chuckle and nods to herself. "True. Okay, thank you."

"_I'll be in touch later tonight, okay?"_

"Yeah, sure. Bye Holly."

"_Bye, Sweet Cheeks."_

The phone goes dead and Santana throws her phone down before tilting her head back and looking at the ceiling, wondering how a nerd can be so stupid sometimes.

* * *

It gets to later and Holly still hasn't called.

Santana wanders around her bedroom, peering at the little things on her shelf and trying to calm herself down but nothing seems to work. Her eyes flit up to the clock on her bed side table and she finds the time to be 9pm. That's later than she thought 'later' was, but she supposes that it's pretty early for Holly so she'll give it a few hours.

Her mind begins to drift to Brittany and as she flops down onto the bed, she thinks about last night and how incredible it was. She still can't quite believe that it happened. She actually slept with Brittany; the girl she's been pining over for fifteen years. She actually kissed her, and ran her hands all over her body. She got to do everything she thought was in her wildest dreams and the best part? Brittany wanted to do it back.

And it wasn't just the sex thing. It was more than sex.

The moments where their eyes met as they were both racing towards the orgasms prove that, and she remembers how after their bodies came down from their highs, how she dropped her head down and just _kissed _Brittany. All because she could. She remembers how after she slowed her fingers from their circling movement, and took them out from between Brittany's legs, how the whimper escaped her lips and how it made Santana's entire body shudder on top of Brittany's as they began to kiss and kiss over and over.

She remembers all of it and now as she lies on her bed, all she wants to do is see Brittany and grab her. Hold her and kiss her and tell her how all of her dreams came true because of last night, then ask her to be her girlfriend because that's just what she wants.

She just wants Brittany.

Glancing at the clock on more time, Santana figures this is around the time Brittany gets off work and decides that's she's going to go and see her. It may not be the most romantic of places to ask someone to be her girlfriend, but she doesn't want to waste anymore time without Brittany and so screw it, she'll do it in the middle of the street, beneath the moonlight and hope that Brittany will say yes.

And then as her eyes glance around the room and land on her uniform she made a few weeks back, she figures it's time to tell Brittany a little something else, too.

* * *

Around 9:30pm, Santana's sitting on the roof of the building opposite the cafe Brittany works at, legs dangling off the edge and heels kicking against the brick below. She figured Brittany would be a lot happier if she turned up to see her instead of just giving her a call, too, so.

She has to admit though, she kind of feels like a creeper because she's just sitting here, waiting for Brittany, but she knows it'll all be worth it when Brittany comes out.

Although there is that little doubt inside her mind in whether Brittany will hate her for this, and whether or not she actually _wants _to do this.

There's the slightly decided part of her which is unsure of whether she should ask Brittany to be her girlfriend first, and then tell her about this whole mutant thing after, or tell her the bad news first and hope to God Brittany still wants to be her girlfriend.

But then there's that undecided part which is still saying _don't tell her _about the mutant thing.

It's not the worry about Brittany telling anyone, because there's no doubt in Santana's mind that Brittany won't tell anyone; whether this goes badly or not. Brittany's not like that. She wouldn't go and announce to the world that she knows who the 'mystery teen mutant' is, even if she takes the news badly and decides never to talk to Santana again because Santana's been lying to her.

It's just that she doesn't want to tell Brittany because she's only _just _got the girl.

It would be the less moral thing to do because it'd mean carrying on lying to Brittany whilst dating her – if Brittany says _yes _to being her girlfriend – but it'd mean she'd get to enjoy just being with Brittany. Sure, it'd mean lying, too, but they'd get to a point where Santana wouldn't be able to hide it anymore and would want to tell Brittany, but then would Brittany hate her? For lying for so long?

Santana doesn't know.

Then there's the other possibility, that she could do tonight, and just get it over and done with. Just tell Brittany and see her reaction, then decide from that whether asking her to be her girlfriend would be a good idea. But she just doesn't know if she wants to run the risk of losing Brittany just yet, because it's definitely more than a possibility.

She means what she once thought. She _isn't _dating material.

Sure, she's now found out that she can have sex without harming anyone, but that's not what a relationship is. And Santana's worried that she won't be able to treat Brittany the way she deserves too because she doesn't know _how _to be in a relationship. The movies never show this part for teenagers. They always just jump to the sex and whilst, because of last night yeah, they might be right in some aspects, Santana doesn't just care for the sex.

It's definitely a bonus, don't get her wrong, but if she could choose between sex and Brittany without sex, she'd choose Brittany every time.

_Fuck. _She doesn't even know what she's thinking anymore.

But Santana doesn't have much time to dwell on the frustration of choosing what she's going to do because Brittany steps out the cafe, pulling each side of her jacket around her body – there's a chill in the air tonight – and glances around the street before plugging her headphones into her ears and turning left.

Santana just stares, because even Brittany walking is freaking beautiful, but she's so focused on the girl that it's hard to notice anything else.

Anything else being the car zooming down the street at 100mph.

There's exactly a 50.43 meter gap between the car and Brittany when Santana notices, and it's like everything slows down because her senses pick up. Her eyes lock onto the driver, and her fingers dig so hard into the brick of the wall she's sitting on that it crumbles beneath her palm.

It's Jesse.

It's fucking _Jesse _driving the car and a gasp comes up from the center of her chest, and her eyes grow wide as they flicker back towards Brittany.

Brittany, who's humming along with the tune playing on her iPod. Brittany, who's hands are buried deep within her pockets and Brittany who's completely oblivious to everything going around her.

Including the car speeding towards down the street.

And Santana doesn't know whether she should intervene when Jesse stops.

Jesse might just want to talk to Brittany. He might want to discuss what happened and as much as Santana would like to stop that from happening, Brittany might get more pissed if Santana steps in and plays the possessive girlfriend part. Even if she's not quite at that status yet.

Except the seconds tick by, and as Santana's thoughts lead on from each other and end up being pretty ridiculous, she realizes somewhere along the line that Jesse is still driving too fast. He's still driving at 100mph and as Santana squints, her eyes zooming in to the cab of the car, she finds something glinting in his right hand and focuses on it with her microscopic vision to figure out what it is.

And that's when her heart stops.

It's a bottle of whiskey.

Jesse, who's definitely drunk and behind the wheel, is driving down the road and Brittany's walking along the pavement. Santana doesn't know if it's on purpose, if Jesse even knows Brittany's there but drunk driving is dangerous, it's in the damn name, and with one little slip of the hand, going at that speed he is, Jesse could start careening off towards the right and could accidentally hit Brittany.

But then she notices the smirk on his face, and as her mind calculates the speed and stopping distance equation in her head, she figures something out. She figures it out and it's only confirmed as she watches his hand slide on the steering wheel and pull, so the wheels of the car tilt to the right and then he's heading for Brittany.

He's heading straight for her and–

"Holy shit."

Jesse's _trying _to run Brittany over.


	14. Part Fourteen: Revealing and Deceiving

**Title: **A Whole New World (With You) [Part Fourteen]  
**Rating:** R  
**Length: **4300

**Notes: **Thank you for all your reviews guys! You've been awesome and I hope you're enjoying the story so far! Apologies for the length of this chapter, though.

* * *

The car is heading straight for Brittany and all Santana wants to do is kick herself.

Like _really _wants to kick herself.

All because she's frozen. She's fucking frozen, in a way her body knows only too well because it was only a week ago that she was doing the exact same thing, listening to the sound of a gun cocking and a bullet slicing through her abuelas chest.

She's frozen and all that's flashing through her mind is images of blonde hair splayed across the pavement, blood seeping in through the cracks in the gravel and Santana having to run away before someone comes along and she's framed for the murder of Brittany Pierce.

But as the pain of the memory, the possibility slices through her, Santana tells herself to move.

She wills her muscles to do something because she's already lost one person she loves already because she was so stupid, and she's not going to do it again. She _can't _do it again. She _won't _do it again.

So without another thought, she pushes off the building and then she's falling through the air.

The thing that bugs her, as the car gets closer and closer, so close she could reach out and touch it, is that if she'd noticed it earlier, she'd have been able to slip into the normal clothes she brought with her – just in case she backed out of telling Brittany tonight – get down to street level and rescue Brittany without using her superpowers.

But now it's too late and Santana watches in slow motion as Brittany turns around at the sound of tires screeching, her blue eyes growing wide and mouth dropping open. She watches and listens to Brittany's heart pick up, her breath catching in her throat and Santana pushes her own muscles a little faster, so she can gain a little more speed in flight and thrusts her straightened arms back against her side.

It's close.

It's _so _close that all she hears is the gulp of Brittany swallowing and the way her eyelids close before her arms scoop up Brittany and then she's up in the air again. She's up in the air and even she has to tell herself to look where she's going because she doesn't want to do something heroic like save Brittany (for the second time) and then get so involved in that she runs – or flies – straight into a brick wall.

That'd just be _so _Santana.

She opens her eyes and feels the wind flow through her hair as Brittany clings onto her for dear life. Santana's arms are looping around the girl, one underneath the bend in her knees and the other slung around the middle of Brittany's back, but she can't really focus on that because there's a nose running up her neck and a face pressing into her shoulder.

Below her, she hears a large metal clang and a crash, and peers down, twisting in the air slightly as she finds Jesse's car, totaled into a brick wall. A smirk comes across her lips but it doesn't last long because Brittany's body tenses in her arms, clings to her a little tighter and she realizes she was flying horizontally so Brittany was beneath her. She tilts up again, at a safe angle until she barely has to hold onto Brittany but the fingers clutching at her uniform doesn't loosen.

Which reminds her. Shit. She has her uniform on.

That whole not telling Brittany plan has shot out the window then.

They fly for a long moment, Santana waiting and silently panicking but then Brittany speaks and breaks her thoughts.

"Am I dead?"

It's muffled against the fabric of her uniform, but she hears it and can't help but let out a small chuckle. "No, you're not."

"Then why do I feel like I'm flying?"

The grin on Santana's face widens and she holds the girl tighter, leaning down to whisper in Brittany's ear. "Open your eyes and see."

Brittany does as she's told and a gasp catches in her throat as she takes in the scenery. They're not quite in the clouds, they're just below them because experience has taught Santana that flying at night is much more pleasing when it's not being blocked by the clouds, and the lights of New York City are beaming up at them. It just looks so beautiful and even though it's not quite the stars – which obviously Santana finds outstandingly beautiful – it's almost giving it a run for its money.

But she's too focused on looking at the scenery and darting between the stars and the city that she doesn't notice blue eyes pointedly ignoring all that and focusing on her instead. Well, not until a hand curls around her neck and then she begins to panic because shit, they're so close and there's no way in hell Brittany _won't _recogn–

"Mystery teen mutant," Brittany draws out and Santana's fear drops. Brittany _doesn't _recognize her.

(In her mind she goes through her memory and thinks that no, actually Brittany's never seen her with both her glasses off and hair down. It's been one or the other. Even last night.)

Santana flashes a cocky grin and arches a brow. "Been reading about me, have you?"

"Might have done."

There's a smirk on Brittany's face and Santana chuckles beneath her breath at it. "So how come you seem to get into trouble every five minutes?"

"You've only saved me twice, you know," Brittany informs her, the fingers on a tanned neck running up and down. "So that's not _every five minutes._"

"That's twice more than I've ever saved anyone else."

Brittany's head cocks to the side and she looks at Santana, curiously. "You're only saving me, then?"

Santana didn't quite think about that. Crap. "I just happen to be around when you're clumsy, or, you know," she lifts her shoulders. "_Unaware_of your surroundings."

"I'm not clumsy!" Brittany says, and Santana can tell she's feigning offense. "Or _unaware_. I'm just a little... daydreamy."

Brown eyes dart down. "_Daydreamy?_" She repeats, already giggling. "Is that even a word?"

A hand comes down to slap her on the arm and she can tell that Brittany's trying to flirt with her. "It is too!"

Santana wonders whether later she'll be jealous, because Brittany doesn't know Santana is the 'mystery teen mutant' and yet she's quite obviously flirting with her, despite everything that happened between Santana and Brittany last night. But the flirtatious grin and response comes out before she can even decide. "Show me it in the dictionary and we can call it quits."

Brittany scowls, but it's playful as she crosses her arms over her chest, legs swinging lightly. "It's in _my _dictionary."

"I don't think everyone has a copy of 'Words Brittany Pierce made up.'" She laughs but notices the shine in Brittany's eyes and suddenly feels self-conscious. "What?"

"You know my name."

Santana nods dumbly. "Yeah... I called you it the first time we met."

"No," Brittany shakes her head, blinking quickly and hands coming up to play with the collar of Santana's uniform. "I meant my full name."

_Crap_. Brown eyes widen and Santana coughs, trying to think of an explanation for that. But then it comes to her head so easily she almost laughs at herself for hesitating. "Yeah. Santana talks about you."

Blue eyes flash to her. "She does?"

Santana's mouth drops open to affirm that when she repeats the way Brittany said it. Her voice sunk. Almost like she wasn't so happy about that. Her heart sinks and for a moment she thinks she's about to tear up, but then the fingers on her neck stroke up and down again and it forces her to respond.

"Yeah. But why does that not sound like a good thing?"

"It is a good thing," Brittany says, a little too quickly. "But... I just–I don't know."

It's getting harder_ not _to tear up as the blonde girl speaks because Santana thought everything was fine. She thought they were doing well and apparently that's not as it seems. She clears her throat again and shifts Brittany in her arms, eyes focusing on the sky in front of air as she continues to fly. "Don't know about what?"

"I just..." Brittany inhales to pause her sentence and releases it slowly with, "I feel like she's hiding something from me, you know? She's just so guarded and... I don't know... I just–it's like she's scared of something when we're together. I mean–" her fingers toy with the line of Santana's collar, one digit slipping beneath it to feel the smooth skin of Santana's collarbones "–don't get me wrong, when we're together it's awesome. It just... It takes a lot to get _together."_

_No, _Santana doesn't know. In the past she knew it was taking a lot to be together with Brittany, but even then it was because she didn't want to be to close to someone that could potentially hurt her. It was why she never had a lot of friends. She pulls her eyebrows together, trying to think of response that doesn't sound defensive because then that's giving away her real identity. She's got to play it like she's watching the situation from the outside. Like she isn't _actually _in the situation.

How the hell is she supposed to do that?

"What do you mean?" She settles for, letting Brittany elaborate more if she needs to.

Brittany stays silent for long seconds, and Santana almost wiggles the girl in her arms to make sure she hasn't like, fallen asleep or something. "I just mean..." her voice dips and suddenly she's shy. Santana actually has to nudge her to get her to look back up again. "I just don't think she's into me."

It's ridiculous.

It's so ridiculous that Santana almost laughs. She _almost _does and it's so close from slipping out that she has to physically bite her tongue to stop it from popping out. Out of all the things she was expecting Brittany to respond – most of them including _I'm just not feeling it _or _I don't want her _– that was _definitely _not one of them. In fact, it was so far from the plethora of possibilities running through her mind that it wasn't even _on _the damn list.

But obviously there must be a reason _why _Brittany thinks that. What's Santana done wrong?

Still holding back the laughter, she swallows and presses her tongue to the roof of her mouth, keeping a stoic expression on her face. "Why would you say that?"

"I don't know," Brittany lifts her shoulders and drops them in a small shrug. "Like, last night we–erm..." She suddenly blushes and Santana doesn't see it so much as hear it but glances down, eyebrow raising and a smirk playing on her lips. "We slept together," Brittany whispers. "And this morning she like, couldn't get away fast enough."

Santana's eyes widen and she's so relieved she doesn't start yelling at Brittany and telling her how crazy she is for thinking that. On the other hand, though, she just wants to run into a brick wall for acting in a way that made Brittany feel like that.

"I mean, it's great when we're together and I feel like she likes me most of the time..." Brittany exhales and her eyes focus on her hand, still playing with Santana's uniform. "But this morning she didn't even eat the pancakes I made for her." Her eyes drift up to meet brown as soon as they flicker down. "And she gave me a kiss goodbye on the cheek before leaving to get a _cab _home. She didn't even want me to take her."

Santana shakes her head as soon as blue eyes drop from her face, and she sucks in her lips, wanting to slap herself for doing all these things this morning. She can't believe she forgot to eat the pancakes after getting so emotional over the fact that Brittany even made the damn things. Leaving was the last thing she wanted to do, too, and the fact that she had to really blew, and the fact that Brittany thinks she couldn't get away fast enough makes everything like, a million times worse.

Why couldn't one of her powers be time travel? Then she could go back and change this morning.

"Britt..." She whispers and Brittany peers up at her shyly. She smiles as she says, "You're insane."

Brittany, for her part, stays silent, just continues to toy with Santana's uniform like she's genuinely unsure of Santana's feelings. Maybe Santana will have to actually say it out loud.

(Excitement bubbles within her at the thought.)

"She's in love with you, Brittany."

Brittany's head lifts and her eyes focus on Santana's profile, fingers stilling and palm flattening against a tanned collarbone. "She is?"

"She's been in love with you since she saw you in the sandpit when you guys were three years old," she tells Brittany, and watches blue eyes glaze over at the memory.

Her heart begins to spin, and she listens to Brittany's do the same which only makes her want to grin like a complete idiot; but _not _being Santana, she's forced to keep her cool and nods when Brittany asks her if that's really true.

"Wow," Brittany breathes out and there's a smile on her face that's so soft and adoring that it reaches inside of Santana's chest and squeezes at her heart.

Santana bobs her head and sees Brittany's house come into view, slowing down and dropping her feet down so they're facing towards the floor, one knee bent up slightly but toes pointing down against the other which is out straight. It's the easiest way to lower herself into a hover.

Brittany's eyes flicker from Santana's face down, her body leaning out slightly to peer over their bodies at the ground below. They're not _that _high up, well, not in Santana's terms, but Brittany still sees the destination below and whips her head around, eyes focusing on Santana again.

"You know where I live?"

Santana just grins and tries not to say _yeah, next to me. _"I have my sources."

Blue eyes narrow but Santana doesn't give her time to ask who those sources are before she's dipping down and landing in front of Brittany's house, slowly letting the girl slip to her feet but keeping a firm hold of her hips. She waits for Brittany to shrug the flight off, maybe stretch her arms or something and then step back, but instead she just wiggles her ass a little and steps closer to Santana, hands coming up to play with Santana's collarbone again.

"So what's your real name?" She asks, her voice lowering into a purr.

Santana swallows and ignores the way her mind flashes back to last night, remembering how Brittany breathed her name in her ear the exact same way when her orgasm punched through her. _Oh God, _she really can't be thinking about that right now. "We both know I'm not going to tell you."

Blue eyes darken and Brittany shifts even closer until Santana can feel hot breath beating against her chin and mouth. "Well then how am I supposed to say thank you to you if I can't call you by your real name?"

Santana's eyebrows furrow and her lips curves up, confused. "You don't have to say th–"

She doesn't get to finish her sentence.

She's cut off by warm lips pressing against her own and knuckles digging into her collarbones where Brittany's fisting her uniform and pulling her towards her. She doesn't have a choice in whether she should kiss back because her body's already doing it and she's already moaning as Brittany sucks her bottom lip between her own lips. Her hands grip a little tighter into Brittany's hips, and she wiggles forward, pressing into Brittany as a tongue flicks out, then dips into her mouth and traces the contours of it, curling around her teeth and finishing with a teasing flick.

By the time she pulls back, she's breathless and she can't help but lift one hand, and cradling one side of Brittany's jaw to pull her back in for one soft and lingering kiss that makes her eyes flutter when she pulls away and tips their foreheads together.

It takes about a second of doing that and trying to regulate her breathing to realize now there's definitely no way in hell Brittany's _not _going to know who she is, and so she backs away, letting her fingertips trail across a pale cheek as she pushes up and hovers, ready to fly once more.

But then Brittany calls her name and she pauses, five meters in the air to twist back and peer down at the ground where Brittany's standing there, one hand touching her lips and the other pressed against her abs like she's just figured something out.

And Santana knows exactly what she just figured out, and says, "Yeah, Britt?" because she wants to hear it.

Except Brittany just stares at her, blinking slowly as realization washes through her. "That kiss..." she says slowly, and Santana smirks to herself before saying one thing she knows Brittany will recognize _now._

"I'll see you when I see you." She flies away without another word and down on the ground, Brittany's eyes widen, her smile falters and she gasps as it hits her and sinks in.

And as Santana's soaring up into the skies, she hears the small whisper of, "Santana?" coming from Brittany below.

She just smiles and flies off, only returning back home when Brittany heads inside.

* * *

The smile doesn't fade even as she gets back to her room, closes the door and slides down it.

She told someone. Finally someone knows and it's weird because she didn't think she'd feel _this _happy about it. She didn't think it'd be _this _relieving to know that someone knows she has superpo–

She stills.

Her eyes flicker around the room and she inhales deeply.

There's a scent in the room. It's not one she recognizes and her entire body tenses as she inhales again, just to make sure she's not imaging things but _no, _it's there.

Slowly, she pushes up from the floor and closes her eyes, letting her nose guide her as she walks around the room. It's only a few seconds, where she bangs her shin against the foot of her bed and curses under her breath, but then the scent gets so strong she knows something must be here.

Her eyes crack open and head tilts as she finds an envelope on her desk. One that definitely wasn't here before.

Squinting a little, Santana eyes up the envelope with _Santana _written in scribbled writing across the front of it. The thought that someone's been in her room flits through her mind, but then she's reaching down and grabbing it, turning it over to flip the back open with her fingers. There's a tiny slip of paper inside, only about three inches wide and an inch tall, and Santana's face contorts with suspicion she takes it out and throws the envelope onto the desk top again.

She takes in a deep breath as she flips the piece of paper over, and it takes a long moment to process the words because her vision wavers and heart falters.

_You really have a thing for blondes don't you?_

Santana doesn't know what it means, but the first thing that comes into mind is Brittany.

She's out the door without another seconds thought.

* * *

It takes less than half a second to get to the Pierce household and she's hammering on the door with a balled fist, not caring that it's late at night or that she might be waking someone up. Or that she's still wearing her uniform.

A sleepy looking Mr. Pierce wearing a sleep robe and boxer shorts opens the door, and he rubs at his eyes before they focus on Santana. "Santana?"

"Is Brittany in?" She says breathlessly, more demanding than asking.

Brittany's dad shakes his head slowly and blinks purposefully. Then he processes Santana's question and his eyes widen comically, the sleep shooting straight out of him. "You mean she's not with you?"

"Why would she be with me?" She pants, brows pulling together in the middle of her forehead.

"She told us you texted her to meet you outside because you forgot to give her something when you dropped her off..."

Santana's stomach drops and panic seeps into her body. She shakes her head, refusing to accept that Brittany isn't here and wonders how the hell things can go from being perfect to _this. _She squeezes her eyes shut and ignores the way her breathing picks up, trying to get her head straight because getting scared won't get her anywhere. Her brain refuses to function properly and she doesn't want to accept that this is happening. It can't be.

Then the message in that envelope flashes through her mind again and she thinks how it said _blondes _instead of _blonde._

_Shit._

"Holly," she says under her breath and then darts away, leaving a confused Mr. Pierce standing in the doorway to his house.

* * *

Santana's sure she's never gotten anywhere faster than she does now.

She glides through the air, not even bothering to hover before she unceremoniously drops to the ground and rolls against the gravel, ignoring the sting in her arm as the rocks nick at her skin. She jumps to her feet, darting and bursting through the front doors to Holly's place, skipping the stairs by jumping up them in one large movement and uses her shoulder to bust open the door to Holly's office.

The place is a mess.

There's papers everywhere. The desk is tilted off center and the books that were previously stacked in the cases lining the walls are all over the floor. The chair behind the desk is lying on its back, and the ones in front are too, and Santana gulps as her eyes flicker around her surroundings.

Fear and anger pulses through her, and she sees the red flash behind her eyes as her breathing and heart picks up so fast she's sure she could like, take off purely from that. Her head begins to shake again and she wishes and prays that this is just a bad dream.

But as her eyes crack open and take the scenery in around her for the second time, Santana realizes it's not. Someone has Brittany _and _Holly.

Except this time, on the second glance around, she finds a paper sitting out of place resting against Holly's name plate in front of her desk. It's only out of place because everything's so messy and scattered, and this envelope is propped up neatly with Santana's name scribbled across the front, exactly like the one she found back home.

She quickly tears it open and throws the torn envelope somewhere behind her, quickly scanning the piece of paper that's bigger than the last one.

_We know who you are, Lopez._  
_If you don't want anyone else you love to die, come to Liberty Island._  
_We have a surprise for you._

Santana stumbles forward, the pain and worry settling low in her gut as she re-reads the note over and over. Her hands fall to the edges of the desk, and grip so tightly that soon enough there's a chunk of wood sitting in her palm and she's feeling fury sizzle beneath her skin. She lets it go, and knows she's about to lose control but doesn't give a crap right now and allows herself to pick up the desk. To pick it up and throw it around, the chairs following shortly after and then the bookcases, stopping only when there's nothing left in it's original form to throw.

It's then that another piece of paper catches her eye on the far wall, and she zooms in with her eyes to find a name written across the top of the page, in the same style it was on the letter.

Marching over, she rips the paper from the pin board on the wall and holds it in both hands, telling her shaking hands not to rip because she needs to read this properly.

And that's when she finds out who Holly's other client is.

Because written on the top of the paper, a contract with Holly's signature at the bottom?

Is Jesse St. James.

* * *

**DUN DUN DAAAAAAAAAH**

**My bad, just had to add that to the dramatic ending. So yeah, what'd you think?**


	15. Part Fifteen: Liberty Island

**Title: **A Whole New World (With You) [Part Fifteen]  
**Rating:** R  
**Length: **4800

**Notes: **Thanks for all your reviews guys! You've been awesome!

* * *

A clap of thunder resounds over New York City as Santana sets down on Liberty Island.

She's still wearing her uniform, and her eyes drift up the large statue in front of her, fists curling by her side the longer she stares. She doesn't know who definitely has Brittany and Holly, Jesse isn't smart enough to do it alone, but she has a pretty good idea and has all the intention of kicking some serious ass soon, too.

Her feet begin to move forward, and she's only barely there in her mind. Which is probably why she misses the figure leaning against the pale brick beneath the statue, arms crossed and ankle crossed over the other. It's only when the figure steps out into the light that Santana stops, legs bending into a crouch that shows she's ready for whatever's to come.

She doesn't know what power Jesse has, but he must have something decent for Holly to take him in.

"Lopez," he growls, and Santana's eyes flash to him in a glare, nostrils flaring.

"Where are they?" She spits back, the muscles in her arms flexing and legs twitching with the need to lash out at something. Jesse preferably.

Jesse chuckles darkly and lifts an arm beside him, bending it at the elbow as his hand turns palm up. She falters for a second, eyes darting down to see the flame in the palm of his hand he creates as he clicks his fingers together. It's a small ball of fire, and Santana's eyebrows lift as she thinks back to what Holly told her. Didn't Jesse have a small, weak power? Small and weak would meet being able to create a spark. Not a damn ball of fire.

"Come with me and you'll find out," he tells her and she snarls but knows if she kills him now she won't be able to find Holly and Brittany.

She nods and breathes out, standing up right, then follows him as she turns away and walks up the stairs and towards the door between Lady Liberty.

* * *

It takes all the strength she has not to just launch herself onto Jesse, but she doesn't and manages to follow him all the way to the top of the statue until they're at a metal door and he's pressing a palm against it, pushing it open slowly. He smirks at her and says, "ladies first," and she curls her fists down by her side, telling herself she doesn't know what's going on yet, nor does she have Brittany or Holly in sight, and so she has to keep her cool.

She brushes past him and steps into the room. It's kind of small, and a little dark and dingy, but as soon as she's inside her ears perk up and three heartbeats join in with the two already pounding inside her head. She scowls, eyes darting around until she sees a man standing at the very front of the head of Lady Liberty, one hand tucked around his back and the other flipping a coin, raised in front of him. He's staring out the small slit windows that look over the city, and Santana doesn't recognize the guy until Jesse walks by her and stands obediently behind him, muttering something beneath his breath.

"She's here," Jesse murmurs and Santana narrows her eyes into a glare, knees bending slightly just in case.

"Good," the guy says and he turns around, revealing his identity. Santana's back immediately straightens but the expression on her face still stays.

It's Russel Fabray, she can tell because she's seen him a few times on the TV and he's now in front of her, smirking with a raised lip. "Well, Miss Lopez, nice to finally meet you."

Santana's eyes narrow and she licks her lips, one side of her mind preoccupied with finding the other two heart beats in the room. "Where are they?"

Russel chuckles dryly and steps down the metal levels until he's no more than two meters away. Santana thinks how easy it'd be to just attack him, get Jesse whilst she's at it and then find Holly and Brittany, but she's still unaware of what powers Jesse possesses, and there's millions of possibilities so she bites back that specific urge. "They're here."

"Where?" She grits out, clenching her teeth. "Show me them."

Russel shakes his head and begins to move around the room almost in a predatory manner. "You know..." he says slowly and flips the coin again back and forth between his fingers. Santana's eyes watch the movement, but her mind registers the way Jesse gravitates around Russel like his protector. She supposes Jesse _is_. "I honestly didn't think I'd have to _kidnap _your tutor and pretty little girlfriend to get your attention. I thought what I'd done was already enough."

Santana's eyebrows scrunch together in the middle of her forehead. Her eyes flicker around the room and she squints, unsure of what Russel means. "I'm not quite sure what you–"

"With your grandma, obviously," he smiles and heat flares across her skin, fingers digging into her palm. "That was a shame, I mean, especially after your parents I didn't think it was really fair," he lets out a small chuckle and shakes his head, switching the coin into his other hand whilst reaching for the handkerchief tucked inside the top left breast pocket of his jacket. "But you just weren't going to announce your powers without a little push, were you? You could write about it in your stupid little school newspaper but wouldn't reveal yourself as the 'mystery teen mutant.'" He wipes beneath his nose, sniffling a little then returns to handkerchief to his pocket. "We had to get your attention somehow."

Santana didn't hear much after _'your parents' _and now she's frozen, anger filtering through her body and boiling at her veins. She gulps against the thickness coating her throat and blinks back the heat in her eyes.

"My parents?" Her voice breaks a little and her bottom lip quivers; what does Russel mean? Her parents died in a house fire. "What do you mean?"

The smirk on Russel's face grows and Santana growls, edging forward but stilling when Jesse mirrors the movement. "Well, yes. I mean, honestly Santana, do you think your parents – the _superheroes _– couldn't get out of a _fire?_"

It's stupid, because Santana never considered that before. Her parents were superheroes, and she knows that logically, they could've got out of a fire because of that. She already had her suspicions about her mom – the woman could move at the speed of light – but she was never too sure about her dad. Except now Russel's standing here, and she's sure there's something more to her parents death than meets the eye.

"Did you kill them?" She clenches her jaw and curls her upper lip, fists balling tightly. "Did you do it?"

Russel doesn't need to answer verbally, because the smirk that grows across his face does it for him. Santana's eyes then begin to burn, she can feel the heat building behind her eyes and knows that with one blink she could distract Jesse long enough by damaging Russel to take him out and get it over and done with.

Although as her left eye twitches, and her head tilts a little, she finds Jesse shifting towards her, ducking his head and clamping his jaw down so the muscles on his face tighten. It makes the fight drain out of her and instead all she feels is intense anger. Holly said Jesse had a power but what is that power? It can't just be creating fire in the palm of his hand... Holly would have never taken him on for just that.

So what else is there?

"You're smart, Santana," Russel calls her out of her thoughts and her eyes flash to him in a glare. "So you must know what happens when rubber overheats."

All her science lessons play through her mind and the longer she thinks about it, the angrier she gets. She knows exactly what happens when rubber overheats. First, if it's thin enough, it will expand and become stretchier. But if it's put under excruciating heat, the rubber will melt.

Santana gulps loudly and frowns as she thinks about why Russel's asking her when it sinks in; that's what happened to her father.

"Why?" She demands. "Why kill them? They did _nothing _to you."

The fury is clear in her voice and she can see Jesse smirk out the corner of her eye as Russel throws his head back in laughter, pausing the coin flipping to clap his hands together.

"Oh, Santana. How uneducated you are," he says and her head cocks, eyes narrowing. "You see... I went to school with your parents."

Her face falls. She didn't know that.

"I was the class nerd, and your parents... Well, they _were _my friends. Best friends, actually." Russel begins to wander around the small room, his shoes clacking against the metal. He gets to a small table in the corner and steps behind it, twirling around to stare over the city once more. "But then of course they had to come out with these powers and they wanted nothing more to do with me."

Santana's head shakes from side to side. She can't believe she's hearing this. Was Russel murdering her parents all because he was bitter about something in _high _school. "So what? This–" she waves her hands around her "–Was all because you couldn't get over some pathetic little event in high school? 'Cause you didn't have the friends you wanted and didn't have the popularity you craved?"

Russel spins around, launching his balled fist down onto the table that shakes beneath it. "IT WASN'T STUPID TO ME!" He yells and Santana's head jerks back a little. She knows exactly what he's describing feels like and yet she's never had any intention of killing anyone. Not even Puckerman. Russel's just pathetic, she thinks, and smirks inwardly at realizing how easy this is going to be to take him out. He's just like a little boy with a dream and that's more than easy to crush.

"They _teased _me. They treated me like I was nothing." His eyes are wide and enraged and she can hear the way his blood is racing through is body, rushing up to his face and making his heart double it's beat. "They left me behind and I even had to transfer school because of them. They said I couldn't do anything to the world," his eyes drift off towards the window and he fishes inside his pocket to retrieve the coin again, flipping it from knuckle to knuckle. "And now look at me. I have their daughter and the potential to take over the city with hundreds of willing, young mutants at my disposal."

Santana lets out a scoff, a disbelieving expression pasting over her face. He sounds like something out of a bad 60's action movie. "You want to take over the city? _That's _what you want?"

"I want respect, Santana," he spins around and his eyes bore into hers. "I want people to look up to me and realize just how badly they treated me. I want to be feared... And now I can be."

Santana's skin flares and she doesn't even realize she's hovering until she tilts forward with all intention of darting towards Russel and smacking that stupid power smirk off his face.

"That's not going to happen, Fabray. As long as I'm here, that's never going to happen," she gets out and is about to advanced forward when Russel lets out a dark laugh.

"Oh, but I think it is," he says in a knowing way, his lips curling up at the side. "Every superhero has their weakness, Santana, and it just so happens I know yours."

Her body twitches and her eyes flash over towards Jesse, who backs away into a small alcove, and returns only seconds later, dragging two chairs behind him. The legs scratch against the metal, and after wincing, Santana finally locks onto the heartbeats getting louder in her ears and finds Brittany and Holly's scent flowing to her nostrils. Her eyes roam everywhere, from left to right, up to down, and Jesse drops the chairs in front of Russel, in the center of the small room and then heads over to the other side of the room. Two seconds later and he's there, Holly and Brittany being pushed forcefully into the room with their hands bound and mouths gagged with white strips of fabric.

Santana wants nothing more to kill both Jesse and Russel with her bare hands the moment the two blondes come into view. And she can't help reacting immediately when blue eyes snap to her, full of fear and worry. She can't help it as she blinks and the heat sizzling behind her eyes gets too much, so small heat rays shoot out from them and aim straight for Jesse. She can't help it, and her body follows them only seconds later, but it all happens too fast and she can't get a hold of herself because a large hand with thick fingers wraps around her throat and squeezes tightly, halting her movement. Her hands come up, and she chokes a little as she uselessly claws at the arm by her shoulder.

But it's no use, even with her superhuman strength.

"I have the powers of thirteen mutants," Jesse whispers in her ear and she can feel the smirk even though she doesn't see it. "You really think you're a match for me?"

Santana continues to struggle, she's not one to give up easily, and coughs as the grip tightens considerably so. Over in the corner, she watches Brittany twitch in her seat, Holly leaning towards her to calm her down and Santana can't do anything but continue to scratch and choke unattractively. How does Jesse have the powers of thirteen mutants, though? That would only be possible if he like, stole the powers from another mutant...

Unless―

That _is _his power. The ability to steal powers from other mutants.

Santana's eyes widen and she stops struggling immediately, shoulders drooping and body sagging in Jesse's grip. She doesn't have a chance if that's true.

"So weak, Santana," Russel mutters and shakes his head, clucking his tongue against the roof of his mouth whilst his feet lead him around the small room. "Just like your parents."

The words slice through her and Santana tenses, but it's no use, Jesse just pulls her tighter and she's sure if she were human, Jesse would have choked her by now.

"You see, you could probably fight and do a little bit of damage to Jesse," he flashes a grin that makes Santana's stomach turn and muscles burn with the need to lash out at something. At anything. "After all, we've seen what you can do against three thugs. But ultimately..." he walks over to her and claps his hand over Jesse's forearm. "Jesse will win. You could fight, and save Holly and Brittany like the heroine you are, but you wouldn't get out alive."

Santana's teeth bare and she lets the snarl roll off her tongue. But Russel just smirks at her and brushes a hand across her forehead. She flinches away, turning her head but his fingers just linger down her cheek and it makes her want to throw up. She swears if she gets a chance, she's going to rip his head off with no hesitation.

"Or you could surrender."

Her eyes immediately flit to Brittany, and she checks her over quickly to make sure she's not injured before looking back to Russel. "Will you let them go?"

Russel smirks, his upper torso twisting towards Holly and Brittany. "I guess I will if you give me you in trade."

"You have to promise you will," Santana spits and jerks forward, choking when Jesse's fingers tighten around her neck.

"I don't really think you're in a position to make any demands, do you?"

She clamps her jaw shut, imagining the comical steam blowing out her ears. Her eyes flicker towards blue ones, and she can see Brittany begging her not to do this. _Not _to give in and give herself in trade for Holly and her lives, but Brittany should know better. She should know that Santana's thinking logically, and saving two lives is better than saving one.

"Why?" She asks, breathlessly. "Why do you even want me? Why did you do all of this if you just want to take over the city? You could do it without me."

Russel's eyes close and he purses his lips, hiding the smile. "You don't get it, do you?" He says, lifting his head again. "You see, your powers exceed every other mutants. You're the only child to have _ever _been born from a mutant and a half mutant and that's exactly what I need." He comes closer and holds her face between his sweaty hands. "Sure I have those other mutants, but they're nothing compared to you. I'm just going to let Jesse practice on them when I'm done with them."

She flinches and tries to snap her head away or kick out at him but Jesse chokes her and she's too focused on the pain to think of anything else. Those poor mutants.

"But I couldn't do it without you. You'd play the hero and try to save everyone from the big, bad villain."

He backs away from her, smirking until he gets to Brittany and then turns. Almost immediately Santana sees red because the guy bends down to Brittany's face level, and examines her over like she's a piece of meat. It makes Santana's head spin and she growls, her muscles twitching and aching with the need to lash out.

"She's very pretty," Russel comments, reaching up to trace a finger over Brittany's brow and cheek. "Isn't she?"

The physical contact makes Santana lose it, and somehow, some-_fucking_-how she catches Jesse at a bad time and gets an elbow in. She rams it straight into his ribs, between the bottom rib and his hip and he grunts out in pain, dropping the grip from around her. As soon as her feet are firmly on the floor she's darting forward with her fist raised, but she's not quick enough, or Jesse's _too _quick and he gets to her first, kicking her behind the knee and making her crumble to the ground, his hands latching onto her arms and yanking at her hair.

She grunts, squeezing her eyes shut against the pain but can't move once more. How is Jesse so quick?

"That was a rash move, Santana," Russel mutters, his eyes twinkling with darkness as he stares down at her. "Not one your wisest ones, either, I have to say." He grabs the fabric of his slacks by his thigh and tugs upwards as he lowers into a crouch, coming to her level. "But now you need to make a choice," he tilts her chin up until their eyes meet. "So what is it?"

Santana tries to shake her head but feels a few strands of hair being yanked out within Jesse's grip. "No," she grunts. "You can't have my powers," she struggles and tries to wriggle free but Jesse delivers a swift kick in the back to keep her still. "I won't give them to you."

Russel nods in understanding, but Santana's not stupid or naïve enough to think that's the end of it. Her eyes follow the older man's movement as she walks across the room, heading towards Holly and pushing her head back so she's looking up at him. He doesn't even peer back at Santana as his raises his hand and slaps her as hard as he can around the face, just chuckles evilly and shakes out his palm as Holly's head drops, a trickle of blood seeping from her lip.

Santana jerks. She lurches and tries to move forward to protect Holly but Holly's glancing up and telling her with her eyes not to move. Everything inside of Santana wants to completely ignore that, to ignore that and use something inside of her to burst free and save both Holly and Brittany, but she can't. Jesse's grip is too tight, too hard, and Santana's arms are restricted behind her, tied together with the thick fingers on Jesse's other hand.

And then Russel has to go over to Brittany, doesn't he? He has to go over and lift her head, this time meeting Santana's glare and smirking as his palm raises into the air. It _kills _Santana to watch it, and he lingers a little longer on her before his palm comes swinging down.

It doesn't get as far as slapping Brittany though, because Santana jerks forward and a heat ray shoots from her eye, firing straight past Russel's face and piercing a 3cm wide hole in wall of the statue. The older man's eyes snap straight to her, palm stilling in the air and she jerks and struggles against Jesse's grip, hands shaking behind her and anger never ceasing to increase within her chest.

"DON'T TOUCH HER," she screeches and Russel's eyebrows shoot up. "I swear to God if you so much as fucking touch her..."

"You'll do what?" Russel taunts and Santana's teeth grind together noisily.

"I swear I'll kill you," she says, seriously, her voice dripping with venom and anger. "I swear I'll fucking kill you."

Russel chuckles darkly again and closes his eyes, the hand hovering in the air coming down to pinch at the bridge of his nose. "Stop with the dramatics now, Santana, and choose." He opens his eyes slowly and snarls at her. "Your powers, or your pretty little girlfriend and your leggy tutor?"

He's offering her a choice, but she knows there really isn't one.

Brittany's eyes are securely locked on her, glossed over with unshed tears and Holly's staring at her like she knows exactly what she's going to say. Rage bubbles beneath her skin, and she can't stop switching her gaze between Brittany and Russel as the answer both comes to them slowly; making Russel smirk and Brittany sob, her shoulders jerking as tears slide down her cheeks.

Santana knows she doesn't have a choice. Brittany knows there was never a choice, and Santana glances between them all as her head drops in defeat, giving Russel the confirmed answer without vocalizing it.

A clap echoes through the small room, and Santana gives up all fight as her body sags down, Jesse's grip never loosening just in case. She lifts her head the smallest of bits, only so her eyes can focus on the way Russel seems so damn pleased with himself it makes Santana want to kick herself in the head for giving in.

But it's the right choice.

It'll save Brittany and Holly and even though she's giving up everything she has, she knows that at the end of the day they will be safe and that's all that matters.

"Ah, what young love does to a person," Russel says, his voice dripping joy. "Quinn told me you two were in love but I didn't quite believe it."

Santana's head snaps up so fast she's sure her head momentarily suspends from her head. "Quinn?" She chokes, her throat constricting.

_No_... It can't be true. Quinn could'n't be–

She wouldn't do tha–

"She's my daughter," Russel's grin grows at the announcement. "Didn't she tell you?"

Santana's face drops and she follows Russel's hand as he points towards a door to the left where a large man comes through, pushing Quinn in front of him until she lands on the floor on all fours, scuffing her knees. It makes anger pulse through Santana and she shakes her head in disgust; all this time Quinn was just playing her. Playing her and leading her on.

It hits her like a tonne of bricks and she buckles, body slumping forward. Her entire world is falling apart around her and there's nothing she can do about it.

Why is this happening?

"She helped me get to know you," Russel continues, smirking to himself as he walks towards Quinn. "She got so much information for me, didn't you sweetie?"

He directs the question towards Quinn who's eyes are wide and scared. Her hair's messy and she has a split lip, and Santana can't do anything but shake her head in disgust. How could Quinn do that to her?

Quinn's mouth drops open but the large man standing behind her pushes her in the back and she whimpers, falling forward. All the words disappear and Santana hangs her head forward, feeling such a plethora of anger, betrayal, pain and humiliation that she's not sure which one is the worst. Not only has she found the killer of her parents and abuela, but the same fucking guy has Brittany and Holly, and is the father to who Santana thought was her best friend.

This is so fucked up.

"Well lets get down to business," Russel announces and juts his chin up to Jesse, who nods and snarls down at Santana. "Put her on the chair."

Jesse grunts in acknowledgment and Santana allows herself to be dragged over to a chair she didn't see before. It's a simple metal one, but it looks like something out of a bad horror movie with wires and tubes sticking out from the back. There's a metal helmet raised above it, and two metal cuffs lay open on each of the arms of the chair.

The only thing Santana can think of right now is how much that looks like a torture chair, and how she doesn't know if she's going to live through whatever this chair does.

"This machine," Russel heads towards the chair as Santana's thrown into it, and Jesse forcefully pushes her head back and locks the helmet over it, then secures her wrists down and moves to her ankles. "This machine is something my colleagues came up with back at Vengeance."

Santana strains against the metal but she's too weak, emotionally and physically to fight it. Plus Jesse's standing behind her and she knows if she were to move, she could maybe escape and make it out, but there'd be no way she could take both Brittany and Holly with her, and she's not willing to risk both their lives when she could risk her own and save them.

"You see... We've been using this little machine here to help Jesse with his powers," Russel tells her and beckons Jesse over. "All of those stupid little mutants who had no idea what they were supposed to do with their... uniqueness, came to me, and being the Samaritan I am... I took them in."

Santana's eyes find Brittany's, and she tries to convey everything she feels for her with that one look. But it seems Russel catches her because he grabs her roughly by the chin and forces her to stare at Jesse, who's looking pretty impressed with him as he begins to hover one foot off the ground, freezes the wall with one hand and creates a small ball of fire with the other simultaneously.

"See?" Russel breathes in her ear and she tries to flinch away but can't, the metal strapping her in place. "He's stronger than you already, Santana. He was born with the ability to absorb other powers. Just imagine how strong he will be when he gets your powers," the older man smirks. "He will be _unstoppable._"

Hearing this just makes Santana want to lash out. To release the anger and to punch everything and everyone in this room, bar Brittany and Holly of course but she can't. There's nothing she can do right now and even though she's not sure whether this machine she's strapped to will kill her, or whether Russel will get away with everything and manage to take over New York City, she's sure that Brittany and Holly will be safe, and right now that's all that matters.

"Now, this is going to hurt a lot, Santana," Russel murmurs and stands beside her, hand reaching to a lever she didn't notice to the right. "You might not survive but who knows, you might be lucky and walk away from thisc."

There's something in his face that makes her think he's lying, that this machine _will _kill her, but she doesn't care too much for that. All she cares about is the way Brittany's telling her how much she loves her with her eyes, how much she wants her and how much she wishes she weren't doing this right now.

It's for the best, though. This is everything she wants because if she couldn't protect her parents, and she couldn't protect her grandma, she can protect Brittany and Holly and that's the bottom line.

So she lets herself relax, she lets her shoulder blades press into the back of the chair as she waits for her death to greet her. Jesse moves towards Brittany and stands beside her, smirking one final time as his hands come down on her shoulders and Santana doesn't even bother showing the jealousy she feels because Brittany's _her _girl. Not Jesses, and Brittany knows that because she struggles under Jesse's touch as Russel chuckles darkly and leans down on the lever.

She manages to hear the low whisper of an "_I love you" _before intense electricity pulses through her and causes such immense pain she lets out one ear-curdling scream before her body slumps forward.

And then everything goes black.

* * *

***runs away into the distance***


	16. Part Sixteen: Destroying New York

**Title: **A Whole New World (With You) [Part Sixteen]  
**Rating:** R  
**Length: **4600

**Notes: **You guys have been incredible with all your reviews! I'm so glad you're enjoying this and I'm sorry for the late update but I was away this weekend! Also, haven't actually managed to beta this chapter myself which means there are most probably multiple errors so my bad! But otherwise, read and enjoy!

* * *

_Santana!"_

Santana stirs, her head pounding and entire body aching.

_"Santana... Please... Have to... Up..."_

It feels like there's an 18-wheeler rolling back and forth over her head and she feels cold fingers press against her cheek but there's nothing else.

"_Please!"_

Her mind is yelling at her to move. It's sending signals to her limbs to just fucking lift, to twitch, to fucking do _something _but they're not, they're just hurting and that's it.

Her lungs are burning. Her muscles are straining and even though she can feel her eyelashes fluttering as she tries to open her eyes, it's not working.

Her eyes are rolling back into her head and she can't do anything but blink against the pain slicing through every inch of her body.

Something heavy presses against her chest, pushing down once. Twice. Three times. She thinks it's someone trying to perform CPR but she can't tell.

Her throat burns and she tries to grunt but it hurts. It really fucking hurts and she can feel just how shaky her body is beneath all that pain. She's weak. She can feel it.

"_Wake up! For fuck sake, Santana!"_

Santana squeezes her eyes and swallows, a certain darkness tugging at her mind that she just won't give into. She can't give into it. She _won't _give into it. So she pushes.

She pushes as hard as she can until a surge of adrenaline rushes through her chest, scorching through her lungs and pushing up her throat. She has no idea what it is but it makes her twitch.

It actually makes her twitch and she jolts, the feeling in her fingertips slowly coming back.

It's little progression, but it's progression none-the-less and she tries again. She tries and pushes against that darkness and then she can feel her forearm.

Tingles and sparks shoot through the muscles there and it twitches. But it still hurts. It still fucking _kills _but she's not going to die now. It's not her time. She _will _live even if none of this feels real.

"_Why won't... Just... Up!.. You... to... Can't die... On me..."_

It could just be a nightmare. This could be a really fucking surreal nightmare. She could wake up tomorrow morning in her bedroom, still a nerd and still hopelessly in love with the girl next door.

It could be a dream, all of it. Brittany, her abuela, Russel, Quinn, everything. It could all be a nightmare and she could wake up with a sweaty brow and realize that she's going to be late for school if she doesn't move, passing by Jesse's car as he pulls up outside Brittany's house to pick her up.

That could be reality, and Santana might be dreaming.

But at least that means her abuela would be alive.

That means Brittany would be somewhere else. Someone safe.

That means Santana wouldn't be lying on cold metal, trying to push away the darkness that's dragging her into the pit of something unknown.

"_Wake up!"_

Something heavy slams down on her chest and that's it. She jolts, and jerks forward, bolting upright until her back is as straight as a pole and a heavy breath rushes from her mouth.

There's a person next to her but she can't focus. Everything is fuzzy around the edges and there's still a large amount of pain surging through her body, making her eyes water and muscles protest against it.

She's never felt like this before. She doesn't know what it is.

But she's too weak to keep herself up, and suddenly she's falling back to the ground again. But then there's arms wrapping around her, softening the blow and she's trying to push the unknown person away but she can't.

Except the person doesn't stay unknown for long.

"Santana? You're awake!" Quinn whispers and anger spreads across Santana's skin. Why is Quinn here?

"Get... _fuck... _away fr'me," she gets out, but even she knows it doesn't make any sense.

With the barely there strength in her arms, she shoves at Quinn's shoulders but it doesn't make a difference. Her body is so weak that she can't get away from the blonde girl.

Which reminds her. Shit. Where's Brittany?

"Britt?" Her voice breaks as she says the name, and it sends a different type of pain shooting through her. "Where i'she?"

Quinn's silent for a long moment, but she must see the confused, dizzy glare on Santana's face because she responds quickly, "Jesse... He–he took her."

All the energy she has left collects together and sends her propelling forward, out of Quinn's arms and to her feet where she staggers, falling and clutching onto the metal chair she was previously strapped to.

Why was she out of it? Did Quinn drag her from it?

"Santana!" She hears from behind her, concern and worry evident in the tone. "Stop! You can't–You're too... You're weak."

Santana clamps her jaws shut and refuses to acknowledge the other girls words. Her knees knock against the seat of the chair and she throws her arms forward, trying to prop herself up but her muscles are shaking too much.

She's too weak. Just like Quinn said.

"Why?" She gets out, her eyes trailing the length of her own arms, down to her hands.

She shifts, managing to support herself enough to lift a hand and flex her fingers. They feel different. _She _feels different. What's going on?

"You... Santana,"a hand sets down on her shoulder when she doesn't turn. She shrugs it off and snarls, feeling the way Quinn shrinks away from her. "You don't have your powers."

Her eyes fall shut at the news and she swallows thickly. Her powers really have gone. Which means she's–

"Human," she finishes out loud.

Except she doesn't think of how hard she does it, and next thing she knows there's a metallic tang seeping onto her tongue, and when her fingers dab at the throbbing area, she glances down to find blood.

She's never bled before. The super fast healing rate always fixed her wounds before she could see them and now she's glancing at this dark red liquid, rolling it between her thumb and forefinger.

She really is human.

"Santana... You need to know," Quinn's voice is urgent and brown eyes slide to the right to find the blonde girl with her hand pressed to her chest, eyes glossy with tears. "I didn't help my father―I didn't. You _have _to believe me―You just _have _to."

Santana clamps her jaw and continues to stare ahead, watching the girl beside her shift awkwardly at the silence between them.

"He just asked me question," Quinn blurts. "He asked me about you and I didn't think anything of it. They were just normal questions. I didn't think―"

"NO!" Santana spins around, wobbling on her weak legs and snapping her hands out to stable herself.

Quinn jerks too, but she knows better than to touch Santana right now. Even if she doesn't have her powers, she could still do some damage.

"You didn't think, did you?" Her voice is hard and aggressive and her eyes narrow into a glare. "You didn't think and that's why I'm _here_," she thrusts her finger to the floor, pointing at it. "That's why I'm here with no powers, no fucking clue where Brittany or Holly are and no way of saving them."

Quinn's shoulders sag and she just seems so damn small that Santana almost softens her voice. Key word _almost._

"_Fuck, _Quinn," she spits, twisting her face in anger. "Did you not think it was a _bit_ fucking suspicious that your _criminal mastermind _of a father was asking about your new friend!?"

"I didn't know he was a criminal mastermind!" Quinn sobs, her voice breaking as her hand presses harder into her chest. "I had no idea!"

Santana's face contorts with disbelief and her blood begins to boil.

"He was on the TV, Quinn! He took mutant teenagers under his wing and you didn't think that was fucking strange!?"

Hazel eyes flicker from left to right, uncertainty and shame shading behind them.

"I-I... Daddy's always been on TV," she says, lowering her voice and picking at the hem of her cardigan. "I never–never thought any different of it."

Santana chuckles bitterly, twisting her neck to look away.

"What about the questions then?" She says, lips curling up at the side. How can Quinn honestly say she had no idea? She's supposed to be clever. "What did you think they were for?"

"I just thought–" the blonde swallows and blinks hard. "I just thought he c-cared."

The tone in which those words are said makes Santana's anger lessen a little.

Before all she could see was Quinn, the half-bitch, half-nerd who claimed not to be either of them, but now she's looking―really looking―all she can see is a girl who wants to be loved. A girl who wants her daddy to care. To love her.

It makes Santana slump backwards, butt hitting the seat and sending a dull ache through her bones. That's what a bruise must feel like.

" What did you tell him about me?" She breathes, burying her face in her hands. "What did he want to know?"

"Just questions..." Quinn's eyebrows scrunch together like she's remembering something. "I answered most of them, but then he asked me to break into Figgin's office..."

Santana's head snaps up.

"Did you do it?" She asks urgently, watching Quinn shift her weight from one leg to the other. "Did you get it for him?"

There's no need to answer, because hazel eyes fall and Quinn's head follows. Shame pours out of her and infects the atmosphere, and Santana clenches her jaw, wondering why the hell Quinn would do that.

She thought she was smarter than that.

"When?"

"When what?"

"When did he ask you for that?"

Quinn's eyes cloud over for a second. They return to normal a few seconds later and she shakes her head.

"Just questions about you and your family. I didn't know much–just the things you told me–and since you told me, back when I was a stranger to you, I didn't think it was private."

"Yeah..." Santana laughs dryly under her breath. "How stupid of me for thinking I could trust you."

"I didn't know he was going to do all of this," Quinn's voice softens and Santana can hear the regret in it. The blonde girl shifts forward until she's in front of her, lowering to her knees and looking up into brown eyes. "You have to believe me, Santana. _Please._"

Begging. That's what Quinn's doing. _Begging, _Santana, on her knees and reaching up with quivering hands to clutch at tanned ones, clinging onto them like it's going to help.

Her hazel eyes are pleading, they're glossing over with tears and it should make Santana feel bad because she looks like a kicked puppy, but it doesn't. Santana just can't look at her.

She can't look at Quinn without remembering everything she did and how now she has nothing.

Her abuela's dead.

Holly and Brittany are _somewhere _and she just... She doesn't know what to do now.

And it's all because of Quinn.

"That doesn't change anything."

"But―"

"But nothing, Quinn," Santana snaps, tearing her hand away from the girls grasp. "You apologizing and telling me that won't take back the fact that I have no powers and therefore have no way of saving Brittany or Holly."

She lifts both hands in the air and slaps them down again, hard. "If by some chance we found to find out where they are, that is."

Quinn gulps loudly, regret flashing over her expression. Her mouth drops open, her lips move, but no words come out. It's like she's trying to think of what to say but she can't.

And frankly, that's the way it should be.

Quinn can't say anything to make this situation better. Quinn can't _do _anything to make this situation any better.

And anything she says or does is just going to piss Santana off more. Make her want to punch Quinn even more.

It's as that moment, when that specific thought passes through her mind, that her hands begin to shake. Her eyes dart down, eyeing up her quivering fists but the only emotion running through her is confusion.

Why is this still happening?

She has no powers. She has no fear of losing control because the worst she can do as a human is deliver a few punches. And honestly, they'd probably be well deserved if they landed in Quinn's face.

"We'll get them back," Quinn blurts out, eyes widening. "We will. We―we can do it."

Santana's face contorts with disbelief.

"How, Quinn?" She spits, pushing up on legs that are sturdier than they were a minute ago. "How exactly are you planning on getting my fucking powers back? When you don't even know where the person that has them _is?_"

"I-I don't know," the blonde follows her movement, but doesn't follow her. Instead moves towards the slit windows and stands there, staring out of them. "But we will―we can."

"We can't, Quinn," Santana hisses through a clenched jaw, squeezing her eyes against the anger coursing through her. "We fucking can't. Jesse's gone somewhere. Jesse's gone and he has my powers and this chair," she spins around and violently kicks at the object, but it doesn't move and she recoils in pain. Broken toe? Most probably.

"Santana―"

"This stupid fucking chair is here and there's no way in _hell,_" she thrusts her hand out to emphasize her words and rudely ignores Quinn, needing to fume a little. "That we're going to get him to come back here and sit in this _thing._" Her hand drops to rest on her hip, whilst the other comes to pinch at the bridge of her nose.

"Santana―"

"And even if somehow we could," she strengthens her voice, and doubles the volume of it as her head moves from left to right without conscious thought to show that's just not possible. "Neither of us know how this chair works. We just don't know."

"Shit, Santana! Would you just fucking listen!?"

Santana twirls around, ready to go all Jackie Chan on Quinn when she repeats the tone of the girls voice in her head and finds something different. Something stronger, she thinks.

Then that's confirmed when her eyes find the blonde and her own shoulders drop, face twisting with fear. Quinn's as pale as a ghost.

"What, Quinn? What do you possibly have to say?"

"We have to get your powers back..." Quinn's voice is more serious than it was. It's so serious it's almost frightened.

Santana's legs lead her over to the join the blonde before she can even choose to do it, but then finds exactly what the girl is talking about and the anger, the expression, drops straight off her face. She gulps and licks her lips, body tensing with fear.

Because in front of her, the city's burning. It's literally glowing orange from how many of the skyscrapers and buildings are on fire.

The air is thick with smoke, and Santana can see a few spotlights from what she assumes to be helicopters flying through the streets, but as soon as she finds them, they're gone, and there's sounds of gunfire and screams echoing towards Liberty Island and red beams―lasers or heat rays, she doesn't know what powers these mutants possess―shooting through the sky and cutting down anything in its path.

It's like something out of a movie, one of those end of the world ones where aliens come down from space and destroy every living thing they see.

Except this isn't a movie. This is real life. And these people destroying the city aren't aliens, they're mutants.

Mutants that landed in the hands of the wrong man and being led to do the wrong thing.

They're something Santana could have been, had she gone down a different path. It chills her to the bone and she finds herself shaking her head, trying to deny what's so clear in front of her.

This is really happening.

"...Because if we don't my dad's going to destroy New York."

And all Santana can do is nod.

* * *

One moment she's frozen in her spot, feeling nothing but fear course through her veins.

But then the next?

Fiery anger is searing through her, spiking at her skin and making her fists shake uncontrollably, and she's squeezing her eyes shut, her muscles shaking from how hard she's tensing.

It feels so overpowering, this thing building inside of her and she can't help it when she lashes out, throwing her fist through the air and coming in contact with the closest thing: the wall.

Except unexpectedly, pain doesn't surge up her wrist. Her bones don't break or crack against the thick metal wall.

_No._Instead, her fist goes straight through the metal and she can feel the cool air breeze over her knuckles from where she's punched all the way through the wall.

Quinn gasps behind her, jumping and covering her mouth with her hand. She yelps, but quickly comes to Santana's side, wrapping her hands around Santana's arm to see if it's really doing what it is.

"You still have your powers!?" She screeches, whipping her head around and gazing at Santana with wide eyes.

"But..." Santana trails off, throat now incredibly dry. "But Jes―Jesse―"

"You still have something left," Quinn breathes, relief evident in her tone. "You still have some of your powers."

Not quite understanding how this is possible, Santana just blinks and pulls her hand out of the wall, making sure not to catch her skin on any of the sharp metal protruding from the impact hole.

She flexes her fingers, feeling a little resistance but no pain, and that's better than she hoped for.

"Do something else."

Santana blinks, unable to hear anything.

"Santana," Quinn grabs her by the shoulders. "Do something else. What can you do?"

Finally managing to kick start her brain again, Santana licks her lips and glances around as if the answers are hanging in the air. But then her mind begins to process everything and then she's blinking hard. She's squinting and feeling the tiniest spark of heat beneath her eyes, wishing a heat ray to come out.

They've always come out at the most inconvenient times so it'd be really handy for her heat ray vision to work now.

And it does. But it's barely a spark. It shoots out barely an inch in front of her before it fades, and she slumps down, blinking against the stinging pain in her eyes.

Hands pressed to the floor, Santana pants a few times, pushing back the pain. "_Fuck, _that hurt."

It's not really that surprising, if she's human and she's shooting heat rays out her eyes, that is going to hurt. She's not immune to injury or pain anymore, not that she was before but the resistance was definitely a lot more than this. Now she's just left with an intense stinging like someone pried her eyes open and blew into them until they dried out.

"Is that it?"

Santana's head whips around. "What do you mean, _'is that it'_?" She growls, sensing disappointment. "I'd like you to see you fire fucking heat rays out your eyes, human."

"_You're_human too, Santana."

Shit. She forgot that. "Whatever. I can still do more than you."

"Are you really going to start a comparison over that _right now?_"

Santana rolls her eyes and struggles to get to her feet, stretching an arm out to support herself. She's still weak. "What are we going to do?"

"I don't know." Quinn bites her lip and chews in thought. Santana clenches her jaw and looks away. "I mean, he doesn't think you're even alive so whatever you do is a surprise."

Santana's head almost twists off with the speed that she turns it to look at her friend. "What!? He doesn't think I'm alive?"

"Well... No," Quinn shakes her head. "Once he switched the chair thing off he asked me to check your pulse."

"And you told him I was dead?"

"I couldn't... I couldn't just let him do whatever with you," she gulps. "I had to do something... And I don't know... It seemed like the only option. You'd been through enough."

It's the best thing Santana could've heard and she almost smiles, but then it hits her that Brittany and Holly were in the room. The last they would have heard of her was that she didn't have a pulse. The almost smile drops and she shakes her head, blinking and squinting at the other girl.

"Wait... Does Brittany think I'm dead?"

Quinn doesn't answer, just nods sheepishly and sucks in her lips. Santana can't even begin to imagine how Brittany's feeling right now, thinking she's dead. She can't even comprehend what she'd do if the roles were reversed and she thought Brittany were dead.

"Fuck," she breathes, pressing her palms into her eyes. "What about Holly?" She grumbles, dropping her hands to look at Quinn for an answer. "Where's she?"

"I don't know what happened to her... I-I think my dad said he didn't need her anymore―"

Santana's eyes widen and she stops breathing for a second, fearing the worst. But then Quinn's head begins to swing from left to right, her hands stretching out and matching the movement.

"―But I know he didn't kill her. He wouldn't do that."

"Are you kidding me, Q? You're dad's about to take over the city but you don't think he'd kill Holly?"

"I asked him not to," Quinn blurts. "I pleaded with him and he said he wouldn't for me."

Santana won't say thank you for that but she nods curtly. "Fine. But we need to figure out what I'm going to do to rescue Brittany with no powers."

They both stare at each other for a long moment, but no ideas arise.

* * *

Soon enough all hell has broken loose.

The fires get bigger. The screams get louder. The gunfire increases and all Santana can do is sit back and watch as Russel Fabray takes over New York City.

She's sitting on the floor, back against the center column with her head tilted back against the metal, knees up and arms hanging off them. Quinn's beside her, crossed legged and head hung down. Neither of them have thought of what they can do.

"What if your dad knew?"

Quinn glances up, eyebrows scrunched together. So Santana elaborates.

"What if he knew I was alive and still had a weakened version of my powers? What would he do?"

Hazel eyes flash with confusion. "I don't know what you mean..."

Santana reaches up and rakes through her hair, tugging lightly to get some frustration out her veins. "Like, what would he do? How would he react? Would he be scared?"

"I don't know." Quinn shrugs, looking hopeless. Santana hates that. "I mean, he thinks you're dead so whatever you do is going to be a shock. But only we know that your powers aren't at their full potential. And only you know your weaknesses and what you can and can't do."

That makes a light bulb spark above Santana's head and she glances away in thought. If Russel doesn't know that she's alive or that she has some sort of powers, then she could use that to her advantage. Sure, they wouldn't do anything if Jesse were to start on her, but it's enough to scare Russel. He would think the chair didn't work on her, and if she could just _pretend _that her powers were still fully functional then it might be enough to get him and Jesse to back off and for her to save Brittany.

And not to mention she's had enough experience of her powers to know where he weaknesses lie. She knows her heat ray vision only goes so far, and how powerful it is at a certain distance. Only she knows how strong she is, and what could injure her and what couldn't. She knows how fast her healing rate is and if she was quick enough, she could do some serious damage to Jesse.

Because only_ she_knows how.

"Quinn," she starts and then relays the entire thing to her friend, leaving no details out.

Quinn's face lightens and darkens at certain parts, and Santana can't help that pang inside her chest that comes from telling Quinn she's going to have to take down her father because even though, yeah, he's a criminal mastermind, he's still her father.

But she can't dwell on that, not whilst hundreds―maybe thousands―of peoples lives are at stake. Including Brittany's.

"That's a good idea, Santana, but―" Quinn licks her lips, an inscrutable expression on her face. "―that would only be possible if you knew where he was, and if you somehow managed to get close enough. Jesse will hear you a mile off and he was stronger than you before the chair, so now you have zero chance."

A sarcastic comment about having faith in her is on the tip of her tongue but she swallows it, eyeing Quinn up from her position. She's sitting there in a knee length dress that has to of come from Sandy Olsen's wardrobe, her hair's a little messy but it's still somehow regained it's prime and proper position, clipped back and away from her face and Santana can't seem to see anything but a little girl.

Not any little girl, though.

_Daddy's _little girl.

And that's when a smirk comes across her face and she knows how she's going to get close enough to Russel.

"Hey, Q?" Quinn glances at her, quizzical. "How'd you feel about doing a little acting?"

Quinn arches her brow and the smirk on Santana's face grows.

* * *

**just realized I've left this on another cliffhangar, and for that I could not apologize more. but psht, whatcha gonna do about it :)**


	17. Part Seventeen: Finding Allies

**Title: **A Whole New World (With You) [Part Seventeen]  
**Rating: **R  
**Word Count: **4700

**Notes: **It's coming to an end soon! Sad times! Maybe a 3-4 chapters left. Enjoy though and thanks for your reviews!

* * *

The good thing about being a nerd is that Santana's watched so many superhero films that she knows there's several possible places a criminal mastermind would go when beginning his plan to take over the city. All of which are large landmarks or famous places sightseers come to New York to visit.

So she and Quinn start with those places first.

They head to Brooklyn Bridge, making sure to keep a low profile by travelling on their feet, and when they arrive there it just confirms Santana's thoughts as she takes in the amount of mutants guarding this particular part of town. The only reason Russel wanted these mutants was to use them as his minions. To use them as disposable guards that are willing to do whatever he wants because he took them under his wing and they feel like that's the only way they can pay him back.

_Fuck. _They're not even adults for God's sake. They all look like freaking _kids _and they're risking their lives. The thought makes anger flare across Santana's skin; Russel's just taking advantage of these young mutants.

Anyway, they get there and stand afar, taking note of how the formation of the mutants. The ones with the ability to fly are hovering in the air at both entrances, arms crossed and a daunting expression on their faces, and the ones who can't fly are standing firmly on the ground, but have the exact same stance.

Humans are scattered out beneath them, some on the floor with blood seeping from various wounds on their body and some just plain terrified and crouching or ducking to protect themselves. There are a few police cars darted around too, but by the looks of it the policeman have been killed or have run away because they're vacant.

And it's kind of incredible to see the damage already done. But incredible in the most tortured, fucked up way possible.

Russel really is trying to take over the city.

And Santana knows as she surveys the area that she has to stop him. She has to. Even if she has no way of doing so at the moment.

Her eyes drift across the entrance of the bridge closest to her, and Quinn shifts beside her as they search for Jesse or Russel, but there's no sign of either present. Disappointment sinks through her but she's seen the movies. No hero ever finds their villain at the first place they check. So she's got to move on.

But still, she lets her eyes roam around the view before them and says, "He's not here."

Quinn exhales loudly next to her, shocked by the scenery "Yeah," she says, and that should make them move but they both just stand there and stare at the devastation surrounding them.

* * *

The next place they go is Times Square, but no sign of anyone there either. Well, apart from the small army of mutants guarding that place, too.

Next is Central Park, then the Chrysler Building and the Rockefeller Center afterward. All of which just contain the same amount of young mutants, guarding and trying to look terrifying, and the same amount of scared humans who are long past trying to fight back.

Probably because of the tanks and army trucks lying in the middle of the roads, destroyed and burning.

And Santana begins to think. If the army can't even stop them, how can she?

Last on their list are Grand Central Station and the Empire State Building, and they visit the tallest one first but know as soon as it comes into view, and as soon as their eyes long onto the smoke emanating from several floors and the young mutants terrorizing humans out front that Russel's already been here. He's already taken over this landmark too.

They both glance at each other, sharing hopeless sighs and know where they're heading next.

It's their last hope.

* * *

They're halfway to Grand Central Station when they're spotted by a few mutants.

Up until then they'd been doing well, and had managed to stay under the radar. Anytime a mutant would fly by, they'd duck into the nearest alley or find some sort of cover behind burnt out vehicles or inside shops with broken windows―they also find that the people of the city have gone on some sort of riot and all turned into riots because most of the shops are vacant of any products―and waited it out.

It did mean that it'd taken twice the amount of time to get to each destination, but it meant they were safe.

But that all ended when they decided to cut through Bryant Park.

And now they're standing in the middle of the park, surrounded by six mutants, two of them hovering in the air and the other four advancing towards them with clenched fists and powers that Santana doesn't know of yet. She steps back, grabbing Quinn's hand and pull her tighter towards her as they move in, and her heart's beating fast and heavy against her chest.

She's not sure how she's going to handle this.

The mutants are a little older than she expected, and they all look like they've been put on some sort of drug to enhance their fitness because the guys muscles are on the larger sight and the girls are all edging towards six foot tall.

It's scary in a way she didn't think was possible and she shifts, stepping backwards and feeling her friend move with her to find the right angle. If they're separated they're only going to be weaker, since one of Santana's eyes will be trained on Quinn and what's going on with her whilst she attempts to fight off these mutants.

"Are you going to put a fight?" One of the mutants says, and Santana's eyes dart up to find it to be one of the flying ones. His chest is broad and abs toned, his arms are hanging by his side but she can't focus on that because he has large, feathered wings on his back. That's his ability, then.

"You don't want to start a fight," Santana replies, eying up as the grounded mutants advance forward. "Trust me."

She hears someone laugh and snaps her head around, eyes narrowing into a glare at a girl behind them, smirking through brace-covered teeth. She's tall, and her face is covered in freckles. It makes sense since her hair is bright orange, and for some reason, Santana can imagine this girl being bullied in high school and getting her revenge through siding with Russel.

"And why's that?" The girl drawls, a Texan accent evident in her tone. "What are _you _gon' do?" She continues, taking a step forward and holding her hands back and flexing them towards the floor, palm down.

And then the earth begins to shake, and Santana's eyes flicker down to watch the grass and mud jiggle beneath her feet. Earth manipulation, she thinks. That's the girls power.

"I'm one of you," Santana tells them, projecting her voice and crouching defensively. Quinn's hands clutch to her waist, nails digging tightly into her sides. "But you've been mislead. You're helping a criminal take over the city and whatever Russel Fabray told you was a lie."

"So we're not going to help him rule the city, then?"

Santana turns her head to find another grounded mutant addressing her, and she takes note that they're spreading and forming a circle around her and Quinn to trap them. _Shit. S_he doesn't focus on panicking though, instead putting all concentration into eyeing up her competition and studying each one closely to figure out their power.

The boy who addressed can only be fourteen. His face confirms his age as it's still got a layer of baby fat covering his cheeks, but his body contradicts it as he's tall and his shoulders are wide. He'd be good on a football team, Santana thinks.

"No, he's going to use you and dispose you."

The boy stops moving and raises his head, but a snarl curls at his lip. "How do you know that?"

"Because this is his daughter," Santana swallows and reaches back to squeeze Quinn's wrist. "This is Quinn and he used her to get to me because I'm more powerful than all of you―" she gestures to them in a sweep with her free arm. "―together. He _uses _people and if you try to kill me I will be able to take you down. He knows that because many of you are already dead."

She thinks back to the Rockefeller Center where she saw mutants spread out across the ice rink at the front of the building. Many army trucks were darted around but no army men were there, all dead along with the mutants but it was clear a fight had definitely broken out there.

On one side of the ice rink there was what seemed like hundreds of army men, but on the other were hundreds of what looked like normal humans; but a few betrayed that thought with physical differences. Some had wings, some had glowing eyes and burnt palms, but whatever it was, it was clear they weren't human.

Her body shudders at the memory. The ice wasn't even white anymore. A blood red, instead.

"Is she lying?" Comes a voice from the air, and she glances up to find another male mutant, the oldest of them probably, hovering above her. "Anthony?"

Santana's eyebrows pull together but she keeps a stoic feature, trying to figure out which of the three male mutants is Anthony but then thinks logically and looks towards the only boy that hasn't spoken. He's a little guy, only in height and weight, and it's clear that he hasn't been trained or that he has an offensive power.

So what is his power?

"Uh... I..." Anthony stutters and his eyes flicker down to the floor and up again several times. He's intimidated, Santana can tell. "I can't... I can't te-tell."

The oldest flying mutant glares down at him and deflates like a helium balloon until he can nudge him in the back with his foot.

"Well fucking _try _and find out," he grits through clenched teeth, adding a little more pressure into the kick until Anthony stumbles forward.

Santana braces herself, unsure of what's to come as the frightened boy comes towards her, wringing nervous hands in front of him and stopping, sheepishly glancing up towards her. He's clearly not aggressive, and she almost feels a pang of pity for him since he's being forced to use his powers with people.

"I need..." the boy whispers, but stutters and pauses. "I need to touch you," he finally says.

She narrows her eyes but thinks it'd be better to let him do his thing. So she nods warily and puts a little distance between her and Quinn since she's not sure what's about to happen.

Cold fingers touch her forearm, and they're only there for a second before they disappear and she's staring at the boy whose eyelids are fluttering and neck strained, chin pointing towards the sky. His whole chest has buffed out and she takes a cautious step back, unsure of what the hell is going on. He looks like he's just been possessed by an evil spirit or something.

It's twenty seconds before the boy sinks back to his feet, and his whole body relaxes, shoulders pinching together to regain his awkward stance once more. He bites his lip and stares at her, and she thinks he knows that she doesn't have any powers, or the ones she does have aren't as powerful as she made out.

There's something in his eyes though... Something scared and she tilts her head to the side when she sees it. It's not a power, being able to read people as well as she can, but she can still do it.

And right now, she's grateful, because it's subtle but she sees it. The boy knows she doesn't have the powers she she said, but he isn't going to tell them. Her lips twitch up in a silent thank you and he bobs his head a little, leaving it so small the other mutants can't see.

"Well?"

Anthony turns and looks at the flying mutant. "She's not lying. She's telling the truth."

His voice is so much stronger than it was a minute ago, and Santana's head jerks back a little.

"Russel isn't going to let us join him. He's going to dispose of us."

Santana eyes the flying mutant and sees his eyes flicker between each of the mutants around him. With a finger, he beckons them and they all scurry to his feet, him deflating and pressing his feet to the ground to stand as they all begin to discuss. And fuck, right now would be an awesome time to have her super powers back because this is her and Quinn's opening to run away but there's no way she can get away quick enough as a human. She's still a little shaky on these legs.

But then she hears a "fine" and watches the circle break, the lead mutant walking towards her whilst the others file into a V formation behind him.

"Your name," he demands and Santana lifts an eyebrow.

"Santana. And yours?"

"George," he says back and offers out a hand. "We are at your service."

She stares at George, eyes darting between his hand and his eyes, trying to figure out what he means. "Wait, what? What do you mean you're at my service?"

"I mean," George straightens up and Santana thinks he never offers his services to anyone judging by the slightly rebellious edge in his expression. "We will help you in whatever you plan on doing. Whether that's stopping Russel or taking down other mutants."

"Why?"

She can't help but feel suspicious.

"Because I was out voted," he says and she sees Anthony look away to hide his smile behind him. It almost makes her smile.

"Fine," she agrees, acting like she doesn't need them. "But I'll need to know all your powers and names to use you correctly. Understood?"

George has dark brown eyes and they narrow at her when she takes the position of alpha. She guesses he's never been outranked before and if he has, he hasn't taken to it too kindly. "Yes. But we won't talk here."

"Then where?" Quinn pops up, standing beside her, features angered. Santana wonders how long she's been pissed off and why she's pissed off. Apart from the obvious reasons.

"We have a building a few blocks from here."

Quinn brushes past her to follow as the mutants move but Santana stops her, hand pressing on her shoulder and keeping her back. She may not have her super-strength anymore but she's still stronger than her friend. "No," she says, low and solemn. "We're not going somewhere you choose. On our terms."

She doesn't trust these mutants. If she's learned anything from Quinn it's that she shouldn't trust so easily. Especially not to a bunch of people who agreed to terrorize the entire city just because they were told to. That doesn't show any sense or anything.

"Well then where do _you _wanna go, Princess?" The eldest mutant hisses. "If we get caught, we're screwed so unless you have an invisibility cloak in your back pocket I suggest we move soon."

Santana glares at him. "How can we trust you?"

"How can anyone trust anyone?" He challenges. "You can't. You've just got to risk it."

"I've already taken too many risks."

"And you're still alive so you can't be that stupid."

It's true, and by the look on the mutant's face he does too. The worst part about this is before she wouldn't hesitate in going, back when she had her powers. She'd be able to fly away with Quinn before they even blinked if they tried to betray her, but now she doesn't have them and really, she doesn't have anything to lose if she goes with them.

So she just nods and follows them out the park.

* * *

They get there not ten minutes later, and Quinn grabs Santana's wrist as they walk into the abandoned house, her fingers shaking around a tanned wrist. Santana peers over her shoulder, giving her a small nod because nothing seems fishy so far. They seem alright and all the mutants kick off their shoes and gear, throwing themselves down onto the more than likely infested couches and armchairs darted around the house.

This must be where they live now, but Santana still has hesitations and stands by the door, staring at the male mutant who's strapping his wings back.

"So we should probably introduce ourselves," the eldest mutant says and stopping a meter or two before her. "I'm George, as you already know. My ability as you probably know is flight, but as a human I'm a black belt in karate."

Santana nods, taking in the information and watches as George moves around the room, stopping at the other mutant who could fly. His hands fall to the guy's shoulders and she thinks they've probably been friends for a while. Or they're both the leaders of this group.

"This is Eddie. He can levitate to ten meters off the ground, and don't get it confused with flight because he gets a bit touchy. Don't you Ed?" George jokes, squeezing the other boy's shoulders as the boy smiles and agrees. "He's also stronger than a human but not strong enough to fall into superhuman strength. So we use him when fighting."

Quinn shifts to her side as George moves around the room to the sofa, sitting down beside the ginger girl and throwing his arm around her shoulders. She smiles immediately, her braced teeth revealing themselves and Santana can see the love beaming out her eyes. That chick totally has a crush on George but there's a weird hopelessness in her eyes that makes Santana's head tilt.

"This is Karen," he tugs her closer to his side. "Her ability is atmoskinesis, which means she can physically manipulate the four elements; air, fire, water and earth. It's not quite strong enough to do some serious damage, but we can still use her offensively as she can cause a distraction."

He squeezes Karen tightly before pushing up and moving towards one of the other boys, the one who could've been on a football team had he stayed in school.

"This is my boy Josh," George tells them, stepping towards said boy. "And he can... Well, it's easier to see his power than to explain it."

Santana's eyebrows pull together and waits. Her eyes slide around the room to see if anything's changed when she doesn't instantly feel anything but by the time she's glanced back towards him, it's not him. It's like she's standing in front of a really weird mirror because there's a full blown copy of her a few meters in front, where Josh was only seconds ago. Completely real and made of flesh and everything. It's a dead copy of herself.

"He can shape shift," George continues, and Santana watches her own face twist into Josh's young one once more. "Comes in pretty useful."

Never having seen anything like it, Santana stares blankly and nods. This is quite a team they have. It almost scares her to think what other powers Russel has within reach.

"Then we've got Anthony, but you've already met him." George walks over towards the armchair where the small, awkward boy is sitting in the armchair, playing some sort of game console. "His ability is tactile telepathy. He can pretty much see every thought you've ever had in your entire life with one touch."

Santana's mouth drops and she gulps. Anthony saw _everything. _That explains why he lied for her. He knows about everything including Russel, her parents, her abuela. She jots down a mental note to thank him at some point in the near future.

"And then last but not least we have Adriana," George side steps towards a blonde girl sitting on a small cushioned seat in the middle of the room. "She can teleport, but her distance is limited. She's great to have in battle in case we need to get away."

It's a lot of information to take in and she knows by the way George's looking at her that he's waiting for them to introduce themselves, and announce her powers. But she doesn't have any and then she begins to freak. Shit. What's she going to say? Right at this moment she can shoot a small heat ray out her eyes and punch through a metal wall. She doesn't know about anything else and she's going to look like a complete dick if she tries anything now.

"This is Quinn," she starts, knowing she has to say something. "She's not a mutant, though. Just the daughter of an asshole."

Quinn chuckles but it's nervous, and it distracts the other mutants enough to let Santana think of something.

"And I'm Santana, but there's probably no use in introducing my powers as I'm the 'mystery teen mutant' you've been reading about."

In synchronization, all the mutants eyes slide to her and their jaws go slack. Even George's eyes are wide and she knows they had no idea that she is who she is. Almost instantly, she can feel the air change and George comes before her, kneeling at her feet and glancing up at her like she's a queen or something. What the hell?

"You're really her? The mutant with multiple powers?"

Santana looks down at him. "I am," she says, but feels a pang of guilt. She has to tell them. If they're going to help her and possibly risk their lives they have to know the full story. It's just not fair if they don't and she knows she couldn't live with lying to them. "But there's something I must tell you."

Quinn's eyes widen comically and George stares at her, quizzically.

"I'm not at my full ability," she announces, voice clear and strong. "Russel Fabray took away my powers and now there's a mutant under the name Jesse St. James with my powers." George stands in front of her, shoulders squaring and jaw tightening and Santana doesn't stare at him, instead lets her eyes drift around to the others in the room. "He has them and he's taken my tutor, Holly Holliday and my...my, ermm―"

"Her girlfriend," Quinn cuts in, suddenly a lot bolder than she was before. "And if any of you have a problem with that then you should leave now."

It's so unexpected and truthfully, Santana didn't even think that amongst the mayhem and chaos going on outside anyone would care. But now she's thinking about it and she's panicking. Her heart's beating a little faster and she's observing everyone's reactions in the room, but sees nothing out of the ordinary.

"We have no problems," George says, standing strong but his eyes flash with fear. "I myself am gay and Adriana over there is bisexual, so we have no judgments in our group."

Well that explains the hopelessness in Karen's eyes. Her crush is gay. She really doesn't have any chance.

"Okay. That's cool," Santana wets her lips, preparing her speech inside her mind. None of them have spoken of her lack of powers but they don't know everything just yet. "But I also need you to understand that when I ask you for help, I ask you for more than your trust. I need your powers to act for me and I need you to help me because I'm not at full strength. I can't do many things that I could before and if you have a problem with me bossing you around then this isn't right for you."

She sees the way George tenses in the corner of her eye. He's not used to being ordered around as he's the one that's usually doing it, but it can't work like this. Maybe they can take a duel lead but she will have to be in charge. Her priority is to rescue Brittany. Not to fight or anything and they need to know that.

"I need you guys to understand that I am asking you something that's so unfair. I'm asking you to risk your life for a complete stranger to rescue yet another complete stranger." When she says it out loud she realizes how bad this is. "And I understand if you don't want to do this. I probably wouldn't in your situation."

They all stare at her as she speaks and she feels like she should say something noble, something uplifting, but she can't. She doesn't know what to say.

"But you've got to know what you're getting in for so you can walk away, so please, if you have any hesitations, speak now."

She goes silent and waits, and sees the way a few of them―Anthony and Karen―shifts awkwardly, looking around to see if anyone else wants to object but settles down. She's not sure whether she should catch them out or leave it, but George takes a step toward her before she can think about it.

"I'm with you all the way," he says, offering his hand out mid-air, letting it sit there, palm down. He smiles at her softly, and it catches her off guard because he's only ever had a hard expression on his face. Santana grins back before covering his hand. At least she's got the leader. The rest should just fall into place.

"I'm in," Adriana says, standing and making her way towards them to join in, hand covering Santana's.

"Me too." It's Eddie and he glances at George to nod like they're agreeing to something secret.

Anthony and Karen are the only two left, and George stares at them as they both glance toward each other, sharing a smile before coming towards and joining in. Quinn's the last one, and she looks at all of them as Santana wonders what she's supposed to do now. Is she supposed to speak? Say something inspiring? Shit. She thought she'd be good at this whole leader thing but she guesses it's not in her nature. Nerd, remember?

"On three," George says and they all move their hands up and down, counting down to one and breaking at zero, moving to a circular formation to stare at Santana. "So what's the plan?"

Santana just smirks and looks at Quinn who nods in reply.

* * *

**Oooooh I'm excited for the next chapter.**

**Coming up next: The Big Battle**


	18. Part Eighteen: That's An Order

**Title: **A Whole New World (With You) [Part Eighteen]  
**Rating: **R  
**Word Count: **4.2k

**Notes: **You guys are so awesome I can't even thank you enough and I apologize for making you wait longer for an update. But this is soon coming to an end so thank you, and hopefully you'll stick with me! Also, you might get a bit confused by the beginning of this chapter... But just keep reading and fingers crossed it'll make sense!

* * *

"Daddy! Daddy!"

Russel Fabray turns from where he's standing at the top of the stairs inside Grand Central Station. His mouth drops open but he doesn't move, eying his daughter as she runs toward him, stepping over the bodies of deceased members of the police and the army. But Quinn just keeps moving, running with wide eyes and fear paling her skin.

"She's... She's _alive_!" Quinn yells, stumbling over something and crashing to the floor, body colliding heavily with the cold, hard ground. She doesn't move further, just chooses to stay there and curl up, sobbing into herself and squeezing her eyes shut as she clings to herself, obviously fearing something.

And Russel panics. He's never seen his daughter like this. His entire body turns and he moves toward the top step, hand reaching out to grab at the banister as Jesse settles behind him, hovering protectively over his head with Brittany tucked up against the wall, hands, legs and mouth bound with strips of white linen.

"Sir, I don't think you should—"

Russel waves his hand, cutting Jesse off. "Stay here," he demands, but Jesse just moves with him as he descends a single step.

"Mr. Fabray, that's really not a good—"

"I said _stay here,_" Russel commands, his eyes still entirely fixed on Quinn, curled on the cold floor at the bottom of the stairs. She's still sobbing and despite Russel wanting nothing more than to be done with this place and finally take over New York, this is his daughter. She may not be perfect, but she's still his daughter and the fatherly side of his brain is telling him to look after her. To care for her because he's failed to before.

Jesse doesn't argue any further, just clenches his jaw shut and sets down on the ground, clenching his fists by his thighs as he watches Russel climb down the stairs toward his daughter.

* * *

Santana waits on the second level, watching carefully as Russel begins to move toward Quinn.

She's been here ever since Quinn set foot in the building thanks to Adriana, who teleported her here. The very first instinct she had wasn't to kill Russel, but it was to tell Adriana to rescue Brittany and get her as far as physically possible away from this place. To clear the danger before she could let all her anger go and see what damage she could do.

But the logical part of her mind told her how stupid that was. If she got Brittany out the way, she'd have nothing to hold her back and would just let herself go, ruining the carefully crafted plan and putting Quinn and the other mutants in danger. And she wasn't prepared to do that. She didn't have the heart.

So that's why she's here, crouched low to the ground, hoping Jesse hasn't been able to figure out all his powers to pick up on her breathing or her heartbeat and just watches and waits for the opportune moment.

And then it happens.

Russel reaches Quinn and hikes up his trousers, bending down next to her and setting a hand on his shoulder. The moment he touches her, Quinn changes and Russel's eyebrows pull together, confused as he watches his daughter transform into a boy. A burly boy who Santana knows to be Josh.

Then it's time to move.

She jolts up, shouting "GO!" into the air and George and Eddie swoop in, heading straight for Jesse who's stunned and confused. They grab a hold of both of his arms and Santana begins to run, using the stamina she gained as a human to pick up the pace and reach Brittany. She falls to the blondes side the moment she gets there, making quick work of the ties around her but Brittany's eyes are squeezed shut.

Everything's loud around her, and she can hear George and Eddie struggling to hold Jesse back as he fights against their grip, shoving at anything he can get his hands on.

"Britt," she pants, knowing she needs to get Brittany out of here quickly. "Brittany, it's me."

Blue eyes snap open and Santana freezes, watching as Brittany takes in Santana's presence, eyes roaming over her face. It stays like that for a long moment, and Santana's almost caught up in the trance but then something happens and she knows she has to get out of here. She rips off the final tie bounding Brittany's ankles together and tugs the blonde girl to her feet, gripping onto her hand fiercely.

"I'm going to get you out of here, okay?"

Brittany doesn't respond and Santana knows it's because she doesn't want to let her go. She doesn't want to because she's just got her back after thinking she was dead and Santana can understand how she feels. If she had it her way she'd be out of here in a moment, with Brittany in her arms and everything else behind. But it's not going to work like that.

"ADRIANA!" Santana screeches, and a second after she shouts it and Brittany flinches at the volume of her voice, a girl appears beside them, wide eyed and panicked. "Right, Adriana, take Brittany outside to Quinn."

Brittany's eyebrows pull together and Santana knows she's confused, but there's no time to explain that the Quinn that came in before wasn't actually Quinn, it was a shape shifter and instead she tugs at her hand, placing it inside Adriana's and pressing a reverent kiss to her forehead before she disappears out her life again.

* * *

Russel, pissed and scared, looks down at this boy who was his daughter a minute ago and stands abruptly. His foot instantly kicks out, hitting the young boy in the stomach and making him curl up in pain, arms falling to cradle his stomach before he twists around, eyes locking onto Jesse in the air, struggling between two boys.

His feet begin to move before his mind tells him to, and then he's at the top of the stairs, anger boiling in his blood as he scopes out the area, finding Santana and Brittany crouched by the wall, faces close and hands clutching at each other.

"No," he growls to himself. He won't lost this because of that fucking mutant. Why can't she just die, already? Then he'd be free to just take over it.

Apparently if you want something done, you have to do it yourself.

So with that thought swimming in his mind, he storms over towards Santana, reaching beneath his blazer and around to the the small of his back to the gun tucked there. It was a 'just in case' sort of thing and now he knows what that case is. To kill a teenage mutant that just won't fucking give up. This wasn't part of his plan. He wasn't supposed to kill anyone, that's what all those mutants were for.

Plans change though, don't they?

Before he can reach her, he freezes. His eyes blink furiously as he watches a girl appear beside Santana and Brittany, and Santana mutters something to the blonde girl before placing Brittany's hand and this other girls together, pressing a soft, reverent kiss to Brittany's forehead and then she disappears, leaving Santana to sag to the floor, eyes clenched shut. This is his moment. He knows it. It doesn't matter if Brittany's gone because now he has Santana. Santana who is no longer a mutant. Santana who is the spawn of his sworn enemies and Santana who won't be alive for long.

The excitement that burns through his veins is almost worrying as he marches over to her and presses the gun to the back of her head.

* * *

Santana stills, the breath catching in her throat as something hard and cold digs into her scalp. She knows what it is. She doesn't have to have powers to know it's a gun and is now frozen.

"Get up," the voice behind her demands and she does as she's told, slowly rising to her feet. "Put your hands out beside you, freak."

Freak isn't really the worst insult she's heard but it still stings. Spinning on her heel, she turns to face Russel and goes a little cross eyed as her eyes lock onto the barrel of the gun. It's right here, in front of her and she doesn't know if Russel would actually shoot her. She's never had to worry about this kind of stuff. Her body would always heal so fast she barely felt the pain and sure, she might have some resemblance of powers within her, but she's not convinced she could take a bullet and live. Especially not with it in this close range and in her face.

"You don't wanna do this," she says, voice low and serious. "Russel, you don't want to."

Russel's upper lip curls. "Don't tell me what I want," he growls, eyes narrowing. "You've ruined this."

In the corner of her eye she catches Jesse, Eddie and George all struggle together, and it's enough of a distraction that Russel spins his head to look at what she is. It's stupid, and she knows she shouldn't do what she's about to but it's the only thing she can think of.

Snapping her arm forward, she grabs the barrel of the gun and yanks _hard. _Russel falls off balance, bending forward and he twists his head around to fight the movement but she's faster than him. She's faster and her knee is coming up in the air and aiming straight for his sternum, gouging in hard and making him jerk backwards with the pressure. His eyes bulge and she watches him choke, his free hand coming up to clutch the affected area as she tugs the gun from his grip, and twirls it in her hand so she's pointing it at _him._

Her hand is shaking as she holds it at him, and when his vision lands on the barrel near his face he immediately begins to back away, quaking and bringing a quivering hand up in a 'stop' motion, but she's not going to shoot him. He doesn't deserve to die. He's an evil bastard, but no-one deserves to die for making the wrong decisions. Her abuela taught her that, once.

"I'm not going to shoot you," she says, a little softer than expected. Her hand lowers to her side and she shakes her head. "You're not even worth it."

Russel eyes narrow but his body relaxes. "Just shoot me," he grunts after a moment, straightening up. "It's the only way you're ever going to get rid of me."

"No," she disagrees quickly. "It's not. You're going to be locked away for years. You're going to be in a cold jail cell for the rest of your life, all because you thought taking over the damn city was more important than focusing on the real things in life," her eyes find Quinn, Brittany and Adriana peering in from the entrance on the far side of the station and Santana dips her head. "Like your daughter. All she wanted was for you to love and appreciate her and you fucked that up." She steps closer to him and sets a hand on his shoulder. The one without the gun. "She doesn't want anything to do with you and never will because you couldn't be what you are: a _father. _And that's more punishment than I could ever give you."

His expression drops and mouth follows, like he's really taking in Santana's words and they're really hitting him, but Santana can't focus on it too long because then there's a large yell and two large crashes behind them and they both turn their attention to Jesse, hovering in the air and throwing Eddie and George off them. They're not strong enough to keep him and Santana knows Jesse will come for her the moment he's free. Her eyes flicker to Russel and she hands him the gun again, putting more trust than she should in him.

"You know what the right thing to do is," she says. "You made this monster," her head nods to Jesse. "So you need to figure out how to destroy it."

Russel seems completely shocked that the gun is now in his hand and his body sags, eyes darting down to the weapon and then back up to Santana. He's about to say something, his lips readying to move but then she hears a scream and finds Quinn, Brittany, Karen and Adriana all sprinting in, stumbling over their steps as they throw a look behind them.

And Santana knows that can only mean one thing.

Back-up is here.

* * *

They planned for this. They knew it would only be a matter of time before more mutants would turn up and try to fight them. It would've been stupid if they hadn't considered it, but what they didn't really think about was _how many _mutants would come. How many mutants would be Russel and Jesse's reinforcement.

Mutant after mutant all file in, some darting in with flying abilities and the others marching with shoulders squared and a daunting expression on their faces. And as Santana looks at them all, she can see the fear, the horror, the visions of blood of their hands reflected in their eyes. She knows they didn't want this and now it's happened, they're on the dark side and will never be able to back out. She can see it in the way they move, the way they snarl when they all stop in the center, formed in a 'v' shape and look around the scenery to find Jesse in the air, with two strong mutants trying to fight him.

She can see it and she knows there's no way in hell she can stop it.

The war's already begun.

* * *

"FORMATION!" Santana yells, and all her team come to her immediately, including Anthony who she didn't know was here.

Josh limps up the step, clutching onto his ribs, Adriana comes with Karen and Quinn and Brittany who are clutching to each other for dear life and finally, George and Eddie both manage to kick Jesse off them long enough to dart away. They all line up beside Santana. Josh, Eddie and Anthony to the right, and Karen, Adriana and George to the left, with Quinn and Brittany behind them.

They all stare out at the large crowd of mutants who stand before them. There must be at least a hundred of them and where that may not seem like a lot, in mutant terms that's more than Santana could've imagined. She's never seen this many before. She's never even thought about seeing this many before and she can see Russel standing in the far corner on their level, unsure what to do.

She knows the feeling.

"What's the plan?" Someone asks, and Santana looks to her right to find Eddie clenching his jaw, his eyes focused ahead but hands shaking by his side.

"We go by what we said before," she replies, suddenly nervous. She knows that this battle isn't going to be easy. "They attack, we attack."

"We're outnumbered." It's Karen and she's shaking beside Adriana, reaching between them to clutch at Adriana's hand.

Santana can only nod.

"Not to go all High School Musical or anything, but we're all in this together, right?"

She turns to find Josh standing there with a cheesy grin and she knows if they get out of this alive, they're going to be friends. Flashing a small smile back, she bobs her head and breathes in deeply. "We are," she says through an exhale.

A hand slips into her own and she jolts, shocked by the touch but relaxes when she finds Brittany stepping up behind her, blue eyes scared and fair brows pushed together. Almost immediately Santana feels a little stronger and she looks along the line, from left to right, and sees the fear pasted across all of their faces as she squeezes Brittany's hand, telling her many things through that simple squeeze.

Then she steps away from the blonde, dropping her head and the line moves with her, ready to fight.

"You ready?" George whispers beside her.

"Not at all."

A smile cracks at his lips. "Me neither. So let's kick some ass."

And then they descend the stairs.

* * *

It barely takes a minute for everything to kick off. George and Eddie go in via air attack, swooping down to grab the opposing mutants and throw them across the room.

Karen takes a seat on the stairs and places her palms on the floor, using her powers to create a small earthquake and to shoot air in from the open entrances and windows to knock over the mutants.

Josh begins to shape shift into the mutants he fights, long enough so they're confused and he can knock them out or do some damage.

Adriana teleports here and there, grabs a few mutants and disappears with them, coming back a few seconds later without them and Santana doesn't even want to know where they've gone but she has a sneaking suspicion it's somewhere high or secluded.

And finally, there's Anthony. He's clearly not a fighter but he stays back, standing near Quinn and Brittany and in the far corner so no mutants really take any notice of him as they're too caught up in the mutants that _are _attacking them.

But then there's Santana, who doesn't know the limits of her powers yet, and she's just about to test her super-speed and strength when someone spots her.

And of course, that someone would have to be Jesse.

Luckily enough, she manages to see him before he can make a move and jumps out the way when she shoots towards her. She rolls against the floor, stopping before the top step to ensure she doesn't tumble down them and ducks into a crouch, hand pressed to the floor. Her head snaps up and she sees him hovering in the air, fists clenching by his side and eyes enraged.

She licks her lips and waits, muscles pulsing with adrenaline but Jesse doesn't get to make another move before a gunshot echoes through Grand Central Station and Santana freezes. In the corner of her eye she watches Brittany's eyes snap to her, and she doesn't feel anything but she's sure shock prevents pain, right? Lowering her head, she peers down at her own body, feeling her heart pound and listening to her hard and heavy breathing, but finds no wound, no blood spillage anywhere and certainly no gunshot wound.

A sigh of relief escapes her lips, and she sees Brittany do the same thing.

But wait... If she wasn't shot then who was?

Brown eyes flicker up, just in time to see Jesse clutch above his hip, his entire body slowly lowering to the ground. Her eyebrows furrow in confusion for a split second before the remembers who had the gun last and looks to Russel, finding the man standing there, arm stretched out and gun pointed toward Jesse.

Russel shot Jesse. He actually fucking shot him.

She almost cheers. She almost does. Her smile is right there, prepared to shine through and her legs burn with the need to wrap her arms around Brittany in a celebratory hug... But then she remembers something else.

Bullets never did any real damage to her.

Which means they won't have done anything to—

Her vision lands on Russel the moment Jesse strikes him. Jesse's fist comes hurtling through the air and he rapidly punches at Russel's face, body. Anywhere he can reach him. The punches are hard and Santana winces as she hears the crack of bones, and she's helpless. She can't do anything. So she ends up just watching in complete shock as Jesse kicks the crap out of Quinn's dad.

Shit. Quinn.

Over in the corner, Brittany's pulling Quinn's head to her chest and holding her close to her body. One of her hands is pressed over the other blondes ear, and Santana guesses she must not be the only one to not only see but _hear _what Jesse's doing to the older Fabray.

The breath in Santana's throat catches and she watches Jesse move toward Russel, crouch over him and tilt his chin up, despite Russel choking on the blood he, only moments later, spits out beside him.

"You..." Russel's voice wavers and Santana tilts her head to the side, shocked by the weakness in the man's voice. She's never heard it like this. "You were supposed to—to work for m—me."

Jesse smirks down at Russel, covered in blood and already breaking out in bruises, and shakes his head, his eyes glowing in the way Santana knows only too well. He's going to deliver the finishing blow with a heat ray. "I don't need you," the younger man spits, snarling. "I can do this myself. _I'm _the powerful one now."

The words make something stir deep within Santana and she clamps her jaws down, catching the inside of her cheek in the process as her eyes fall back to Jesse who reels back and stands above Russel, glaring down at him with blood red eyes. That something within her doubles and she rises to her feet without conscious thought, fists clenching by the top of her thighs and legs leading her toward Jesse who looks like he just broke out of an asylum. He's snapped. He's finally snapped and all of this power has gotten to his head. It's got to him and it's all too much and... Well, it seems as if Jesse St. James has gone crazy.

She doesn't even know where she is until she's so close she can see the fear in Russel's eyes, but then she registers how close she is and lowers her voice, readying herself to speak.

"Get off him," she demands, angrily. "Get off Russel and step away."

Out the corner of her eye she watches Brittany and Quinn whip their heads up, their eyes asking the question _"what are you doing?" _because they're too shocked for their mouths to do it. Below her, Russel's eyes flicker up and

Jesse's body goes rigid at her voice and he twists his neck, not even bothering to turn the whole way around to respond. "And what are _you _going to do if I don't?" He says through a smirk. A smirk that makes Santana's blood boil and arms burn with the need to punch him.

"Just get away from him," she repeats, knowing that realistically, she probably can't do a thing to stop him. But she can sure as hell try.

This time he does turn around, and towers over her, baring his teeth. "Is that an order?" He spits. "Because you know what happens when people try to order me around."

Santana follows Jesse's eye line when it moves down to Russel and her jaw clenches at the sight of the older man. He's barely conscious, blinking through a bloodied piece of flesh hanging from his eyebrow and drooling a line of saliva mixed with blood sliding down his chin. The entire right side of his face is swollen already, cheekbone caved in and Santana holds back the gasp, not even wanting to think how much pain the guy's in.

Although as she looks up at Jesse and takes a step closer, lifting her chin and baring her teeth, nostrils flaring, she thinks she's about to find out.

"That's a fucking order."

And for the second time that day, Jesse snaps.

* * *

**Only a few chapters to go... Maybe 1 or 2 :) comment if you have time please!**


	19. Part Nineteen: Off Into The Sunset

**Title:** A Whole New World (With You) [Part Nineteen]  
**Rating:** R  
**Word Count: **6.5k

**Notes:** I know I'm shit with the updates, but I apologize! Been focused on other projects.

* * *

The stench of copper hits her faster than the pain of Jesse's strike.

Santana twists right around, falling to her knees and bracing herself with her hands as blood seeps from her mouth, mixing with her saliva and drooling onto the floor. Her lip throbs and she clenches her eyes shut as the bone of her jaw aches intensely so, but she doesn't have much time to dwell on the smallness of that pain because a heavy kick is delivered to the underside of her ribs, causing her to flip onto her back and ripping the breath straight from her lungs.

She chokes, spluttering blood onto herself and stares at the ceiling, watching as Jesse cocks his head and peers down at her, snarling.

"See? You're just a petty human."

She grunts back, unable to do anything more and he steps back, lifting his chin. She's a fighter though, she always has been, so she takes in a deep, painful breath, ignoring the sting of her ribs and slowly—which means very slowly—climbs to her feet, slightly hunched over with one hand braced against her knee. Her ribs are really fucking hurting but she's not giving up. Not yet.

Twisting to her right, she spits a mouthful of blood onto the floor and cleans her lip, before braving the pain and standing up fully. Jesse's smirk fades and she begins smirking herself.

"Which means it's just going to be more embarrassing for you when you get your ass kicked by a 'petty human'," she retorts.

Jesse clucks his tongue and shakes his head, circling her like he's a predator. "It's not logically possible for you to kick my ass, Santana. You're weak. You have no powers," he drawls out, waving his hand around. "You're human."

"You've said that, asshole," she fires back, mirroring his movement.

"I meant it. You won't beat me. I'm better than you in every. Single. Way."

She doesn't answer. She doesn't even leave a second to answer before she's advancing toward him, ducking when Jesse throws his left fist out for her temple. A rush of adrenaline bursts through her then and she dodges another punch, bending backwards Matrix style and desperately trying not to react to the gasp she knows belongs to Brittany. Her focus locks on the guy in front of her, and she knows that yeah, she doesn't actually have a chance but Jesse is new to his powers, his speed and his strength. He can't throw a punch without swinging off balance and sure, he can regain his stance quicker than the speed of light, but it's enough time for Santana to get a kick in.

And that works for a few blows. She dodges, ducks and darts away from Jesse's fists, enjoying the frustration that grows across his face with every missed punch, but she knew it couldn't go on forever and it doesn't. The seventh time she tries to duck, Jesse pulls his fist back and slams it down, cracking her on the back of her head and sending her to the floor, face first. Her chin bangs against the tiles beneath her, and pain surges through the entire lower half of her face as she struggles to breath. On the fall, Jesse must have pushed against her back because now she's winded, choking on nothing and taking deep, staggered breaths to gain some type of oxygen.

From the on, the fight goes downhill.

It's wrong to kick a person when they're down, but apparently Jesse doesn't give a damn because he delivers a flurry of kicks to Santana's body, aiming for her torso and head mostly, but letting a few roam to her legs and thighs until she's forced to curl into a ball, holding her knees to her chest. Jesse backs off for a few seconds, and she almost thinks he's going to stop but then fingers wind into her hair and yank back, causing a spark of pain to ring through her brain.

Warm breath beats against the back of her ear, lips brushing the shell and she flinches, trying to jerk away but she's too weak. She aches and hurts too much. Fuck.

"I told you you were weak. You've never been and never will be better than me, Lopez," he hisses, forcefully dropping her so her cheek smacks against the tiles of the floor.

And that's when her vision begins to waver and blue. Blackness creeps up onto the back of her eyelids and she fights the urge to shut them, coughing and spilling an unhealthy amount of blood onto the floor by her. She knows he's won. She knows she never had a chance of winning but no-one else is hurt. That was her point of doing this.

Except when she opens her eyes and finds wide, frightened blue eyes staring at her, ready for the finishing blow she can see Jesse about to deliver out the corner of her eye, she knows her point is about to be destroyed.

Brittany's decision is made before Santana can prevent it, and her heart almost stops as she watches Brittany scramble toward her in slow motion, tripping over her hands and feet a few seconds before she falls to the ground beside Santana and drapes herself over her, covering her entire body.

Ready to take the blow.

* * *

The weight of Brittany is lifted off her so fast she doesn't know what's going on.

She tries to see, but she can't, the pain is too much, her body is slowly giving up and she knows she's done for. But she has to push past this, she _has_ to. Jesse can't win, he's not _supposed_to win. If this was a film, she would find some way to beat him using her human instinct, but her mind's so clouded with pain, vision so blurry, that she knows she just can't do that.

Still, she manages to get onto all fours, twist her neck to peer up at where Brittany went when she comes up with a different girl in Jesse's grasp. A different girl with wide eyes, a reddening face and nails clawing at the hand wrapped around her throat, choking her.

It all happened too fast and it's too much to take in.

She doesn't know why Jesse now has Adriana in his grasp, or why Brittany's now curled up in the corner. She doesn't know anything but she's trying. She's really fucking trying to force herself to move, or to think, or to do fucking anything because right now she's helpless. She's supposed to be the strong one, she's supposed to have a light bulb appear over her head as some genius plan comes to mind but there's nothing there. And she doesn't think anything's going to come.

But then one word comes to mind and it bursts from her lips—quietly, admittedly—but it's the only one that seeps into her mind.

"Teleport."

Out the corner of her eye, the one _without_the piece of flesh hanging over the side of it, she sees Adriana freeze and not a moment later, disappear from Jesse's grasp. Once again it happens all too quick and one moment she's to Santana's right, and the next she's crouching next to Brittany, holding onto her arms and whispering something into her ear. Relief floods through Santana as she looks toward them groggily, barely able to make out the shape of them but knowing that Jesse can't get to them fast enough before they've disappeared.

That's what superheroes do, right? Save the girl? No matter what happens to them?

But then there's a flash and a slight breeze and she tries to reach out with a weak hand to stop it but it's too late, Jesse's already by Adriana's side, picking her up and throwing her against the wall. Her head collides with it with a loud crack and Santana feels everyone around her gasp and wince. Adriana's body falls to the ground with a soft thud, blood seeping from the back of her mind and Santana just stares at her, her fingers curling against the cold floor as the anger within her curdles and curdles.

She wants nothing more than to get revenge right now, to kick Jesse's ass and just do some damage but she can't. Her limbs are aching and shaking, blood is pouring out from her head, she's dizzy... She's useless.

Fuck.

A shadow casts over the ground below her, but she keeps her head hanging down between her arms, watching the mix of saliva and blood dripping onto the floor below. Her nose picks up the stench of Jesse's cologne, mixed with that copper scent she had before and it wrinkles but even that motion hurts.

Shit. Even breathing hurts but she can't show her weakness, despite it being evident anyway.

"Had enough yet?" Comes from above and she tries to snarl but it fails. She just ends up weakly shaking her head.

"No—not y—yet," she chokes out, pushing up with quaking limbs until she's kneeling on the floor with her back straight.

Jesse's beside her, clucking his tongue, laughing beneath his breath and glancing at her with a smirk and honestly, if she could kick his ass right now she totally fucking would.

"Well, well, whoever knew Santana Lopez was selfish," he says and her eyes narrow as they flash to him. He looks at her. "You're so stubborn that you'll let everyone around you hurt before you finally give in." His head shakes and Santana clenches her jaw, looking behind him to the battle of mutants still going on downstairs. "What else are you going to do before you just _give in_? Are you going to let me _kill_someone?"

It hits her harder than she thought because actually, it all makes sense. She's not giving up and what is that doing? Everyone around her is getting hurt, getting thrown against walls and having their fathers thrown down flights of stairs. Everyone around her is suffering, and even though she's suffering herself, if she just gave Jesse what he wants then all of that will disappear. All of that won't vanish, but none of it will develop and despite her being gone, everyone else will be safe.

That's another thing superheroes do though, isn't it? Risk their own life to save others?

Now she knows what she needs to do.

She wets her lips, tasting blood on them and looks to him. "Just take me," she gets out and Jesse looks at her like he was expecting it. "Just get it over and done with and let them be," she waves her hand out blindly to the people behind her; Quinn, Russel, Brittany and Anthony. "If you get rid of me you're free to take over the city," she continues, even though she's not sure why. "But you have to let them go."

Jesse seems interested by the idea. "Sacrificing yourself for the others? One of which includes a man who merely hours ago, was the one you were after?" Santana bobs her head down once, struggling to get it back up again. "How brave of you."

She has nothing to say back to that, so she lets her eyes close and balls her hands into fists by her thighs. She knows that this is the moment, this is what she was waiting for; that _big moment_where she could be remembered for doing good. If she sacrifices herself, it means everyone else is safe. Maybe Jesse will manage to take over the city. Maybe the team of mutants on her side will be able to take him down and rescue everyone themselves. Maybe it'll all work out. She'll never know, but at least she knows that everyone else will be safe.

Beside her, Jesse rises to his feet and towers over her, and with a deep breath, she just waits.

* * *

It never comes.

The finishing blow, it never comes.

But the rush of someone running past her and then the slight grunt as that person collides with Jesse, does.

Her eyes immediately snap open and she watches as Brittany's strong arms wrap around Jesse's neck, one of her hands struggling to cover his eyes as the other keeps her firmly onto him. Her legs are locked around his waist, ankles crossed in front of him and Jesse's thrashing around, waving his arms in the air. Weirdly enough, it brings a smile to Santana's face, but then she takes note of Brittany's expression, how she's terrified but angry, how she's crying but baring her teeth and growling lowly at him, and Santana knows Brittany is no match for him.

And the second that thought processes in her mind, it's confirmed by an action.

Brittany and Jesse struggle for a few seconds as Jesse moves around in circles, but then Jesse gets a grasp on Brittany's arm and then he's tugging her forward. He's pulling and she doesn't even have a moment to register what's going on before she's flying over his shoulder. All the air leaves her lungs the second she hits the floor, and Santana can't do anything but watch as her girlfriend slides towards her, whimpering from the pain and clenching her eyes shut.

That breaks something within Santana, what that is, she isn't sure, but it breaks it. Anger bursts within her, flooding through her veins, causing heat to rise upon her skin and she doesn't know how, she really doesn't fucking know how but she's on her feet within a second, using _everything_she has left inside of her as she runs towards Jesse. Her shoulder juts into his gut when they collide, a loud grunt pushing past his lips and she uses the momentum she has to drive him towards the nearest wall. Her arm curls around his thigh as she pushes him faster and harder, and she doesn't know how she's doing this because minutes before she was sure she was heading for death, but she's doing it.

Her chests burn for oxygen and a long second later, she ducks out beneath his arm just in time to watch Jesse as he's propelled into a wall, crashing into it and causing a few tiles to crack. Her brows furrow at that, because she doesn't have enough human strength to do that, hell, even _a lot_of human strength couldn't do that but she doesn't have time to register it before Jesse's flying toward her again, his fist hurtling through the air and colliding with her cheek, sending her sprawling onto the ground herself. His feet plant either side of her hips, his body slightly lowering as he begins punching at her with everyone, the skin of his knuckles breaking as pain sears through her face with every blow.

She's not going to last long, not with the power coming at her face and making her vision blur and blacken. Not with the anger behind each punch, each collide of fist against face. Jesse's not holding back, just continuing to hit her and hit her and every split second she has between each punch, she can see the rage in his face, in his eyes. She can see that he's snapped once more and it's no longer about taking over the city, it's about killing _her._Paying her back for taking his girl and answering back every time he threw an insult at her.

She can see it and she knows it's not going to be long before the last blow will be the last thing she ever feels.

"You can take my girl," he pants out and she tries to move her head as his fist comes down but he's too fast. "You can try and beat me," he stops the flurry of punches and pinches her chin to get her to look up at him. Her eyes roll and can't focus for a few seconds, but when they do, they barely register the blurred vision of Jesse above her. "You can do whatever you want... But you will _never_ beat me." He leans down and he's so close she can feels his breath blowing over the barely there inch of skin not covered by forming bruises or blood. "You're _nothing_," he whispers, raising his fist into the air.

And for that second between his fist and her face colliding, everything freezes.

* * *

It's like the whole world stops and she steps out of her body, completely unharmed and fully able to move around without any harm. She looks down at herself, seeing a certain transparency to her skin and cocks her head to the side. She looks out at the room and sees Brittany's body leaning towards her, pink lips parted and hand outstretched to the other Santana on the ground. She looks to Jesse, wild, crazed and infuriated, crouching above her, grasping at the collar of her shirt whilst his other fist is raised in the air. She looks to the battle downstairs and sees George and Eddy up in the air, looking at each other whilst a crowd of mutants reach for them.

She looks at all this and can't figure it out. What the fuck is going on?

_"Santana?"_ A voice calls and she stills, not recognizing it. She doesn't know what's going on or who knows her name but there's this pull inside her chest that needs to know. Her body twists after a few long seconds and it's like she's transported into another world. To her left is Grand Central Station, with the situation going on, but to her right there's just white. Everything is white and it looks like something out of _Bruce Almighty_, or that one scene in _The Matrix_before Neo gets all those guns. It's completely clear and she hears the voice call her name again, but she doesn't know who it is.

On one hand she doesn't want to leave the station, she doesn't want to leave Brittany, but she knows it's frozen.

A hand touches her arm and she jerks away, but when she turns back she sees a middle aged Latina staring at her. A man is standing next to her, a man with faded wrinkles and a bright glow surrounding him and for the second time, she freezes. Warm, brown eyes are staring back at her and the breath she's taking hitches in her throat as she takes in the vision of them.

"Santana," the woman whispers and her breathing is hard and heavy but the woman's voice soothes her. She pulls her eyebrows together and stares, not knowing what to do. How does this woman know her name? Who is she?

"Who—" she gulps harshly. "Who are you?"

The woman's face softens and she pulls her hand away, stepping back until the man beside her slides an arm around her waist. They share a look and smile before glancing back at her with an even softer arm.

"We're your parents, Santana," they both murmur together and she stops breathing all together. What? How can these people be her parents? They died. She never even knew them.

"No..." her head shakes, hands mirroring it by her waist. "No, you're not. You... You died."

Something flashes behind the two pairs of brown eyes staring back at her and the woman sucks in her bottom lip as her head tilts to the side.

"We did," she agrees and the confusion within Santana doubles. "But we're here now."

She looks around the whiteness of the area, and then back to the station but it's not there anymore. There's just more whiteness and Santana begins to panic. Where the hell is Brittany?

"Santana, honey, stop," the older man calls and she whips her head around.

"Don't call me that. I'm not your honey. I'm not your daughter." The words come out hurried and muddled. "Where's Brittany? Where am I? What's going on?"

All these questions pulse through her mind and she clenches her eyes shut, hoping and wishing for some kind of explanation.

"You're stronger than you think," the man continues and Santana's heart clenches. Why does she feel like she knows these people? "You have more power in you than you're aware of."

"What?" She half-screeches, whipping her head around and taking in everything around her. "What are you talking about?" Her eyes meet the man's again. "You don't know me. What's going on? Where am I?"

The man shoots the woman a soft look and squeezes her waist before stepping away, toward Santana. Santana takes a step back on instinct, almost tripping over her own feet. He senses her wariness, it's like approaching a stray animal, and he stops before he reaches her, but offers out his hands, palms up. She eyes him for a moment, taking in his entirely white suit without a crease or smidgen or dirt, and then her eyes flick to the woman, who's wearing something similar. Her brows furrow further and she takes in his words from earlier.

Wait... If they're dead and all dressed in white does that mean—

"Am I dead?" She breathes out, almost choking on the words. "Is this heaven?"

The man's face breaks into a soft smile and it's almost irritating, but she doesn't lash out, just stares at him and waits for an answer.

"No, Santana. You're in an alternate dimension," he explains, calmly. "This is where mutants and mutants that no longer exist on earth can meet. This may only occur once in each of our lives, so we must use it carefully."

She tilts her head to the sides, her facial muscles now aching from where her face is scrunched up.

"We've come here to help you," the other woman chimes in, stepping up beside the man. "As you are in need of it."

A remark about how she's totally fine and that she doesn't need some strangers help is about to roll off the tip of her tongue when the couple in front of her turn to the left, and it's like a projection of the scene in Grand Central Station is right in front of her. It shows the moment she left in this body, whatever it may be, where Jesse's crouched above her, Brittany's lurching and Quinn's shying away, clutching her father close to her. Seeing it for the second time is just as damaging and she twists her neck in the opposite direction, forcing herself not to look at it. She can't. Not whilst she's helpless.

"You've put a good fight, Santana, but now you need to look inside yourself for the deeper strength."

She slides her eyes toward the man as he speaks.

"You need to stop thinking that you can't do it and reach inside yourself to find that something more." The older woman is now talking and Santana looks between them, wondering if this was recited before. "We couldn't do it," she says and Santana clenches her jaw. "We should've done it but we didn't."

"But Britt—"

"Brittany will love you no matter what," the man cuts in and Santana jerks her head back. How do they know who Brittany is? "And that love will be the power you need to get through this because you can beat Jesse. You can do it."

The older woman moves toward her and she doesn't flinch when a warm hand presses against her shoulder. "You're one of a kind, Santana. You came from us and you're the only one that exists of your kind. No-one has the power you do, no matter what machine they may have used and your powers _can't_be taken away from you."

Her eyes narrow and she shakes her head. "I've tried and I have no powers," she points out. "I have some remnant of them but nothing like they were before, and if love powers this, then how come you two didn't make it out alive? How come you two were killed?"

"Because we had to make way for better things," the woman says gently and Santana relaxes, lifts her head and feels her face soften. "We had to make way for you, and we wouldn't have been able to get out of that fire if we'd tried. Russel was too clever," she lifts a shoulder. "He's a human but he's smart, and your father died before I did." They share a sentimental look, a sad one though, and Santana feels like he should glance away. "The love that powered me was gone."

It doesn't make sense. If these really are her parents, then why couldn't they stay alive for her? Why couldn't they raise her? And what do they mean by 'making way for better things?' What the hell does that even fucking mean!?

Anger bubbles in the pit of her stomach and her eyes narrow into a glare. "If you're my _parents_, then you shouldn't have left me. Love or no love, you shouldn't have left your only daughter on this Earth with two strangers," she hisses, pointing her finger toward the people in front of her. "You shouldn't have died and left me."

"We shouldn't," her father admits. "But when two people find each other like we did," he hugs her mother closer. "It's impossible to live without them. We're just not strong enough without each other."

Santana can't believe what she's hearing. Both of her parents had to die because one of them did? How is that fair? How could they do that?

"So you're saying you _could've_got of that building that night," she addresses her mother. "But you didn't because dad had died?"

"Yes," her mother confirms with a curt nod. "But you have to see it from our point of view."

"And how am I supposed to do that?"

"You _are_doing that now," her father interjects. "Look in there right now," he points to the projection of the scene back in New York. "If you die, right now, how is Brittany going to feel?"

Santana's breath hitches at the image, at the possibility. She doesn't even want to think about how Brittany would be if she were to die. She knows exactly what it'd be like if the roles were reversed, and she knows it'd be the same.

"So what am I supposed to do?" She breathes out, suddenly faced with the chance that she's going to die. She knew it could've been like that, but she never really thought about how it would affect the other people. Sure, they would be saved, Jesse wouldn't hurt them and he'd be free to take over the city. Sure, they would be protected physically if she were to die, but emotionally, how many people would be affected? In that projection, all those people... Would they miss her when she's gone? How would they feel?

"Just look inside yourself," her mother smiles and Santana turns, seeing them slowly fade away. "You already have the most powerful thing in the world..." She says as she drifts away, almost to the point of disappearing. "So use it."

Then they fade away completely, and Santana's sent back to reality, back into her body and back, staring up at Jesse as he growls down at her, his fist coming down to her face.

And then she looks to Brittany, and all that strength? Comes rushing back.

* * *

She doesn't even know what she's doing until she hears several gasps around her. She doesn't even know what she's doing until she's looking back to Jesse and then down at her bloodied, broken hand, grasping Jesse's fist. She doesn't know what she's doing until a burst of energy surges through her, and it's like she can do anything.

Baring her teeth, she forces her arm forward, she forces it and watches as Jesse struggles, but he's nothing in comparison to her. Her fingers clench tighter around Jesse's fist until his face is contorting with pain, and she cocks her head to the side as she drives him back. His ass hits the floor and she manages to climb to her feet, her muscles and veins pulsating with adrenaline as her feet meet the ground and she's rising.

Jesse's eyes, wide with fear and shock, stare up at her and she can tell he's terrified by how fast he's breathing. "How... I mean—_How?_" He chokes out but even she doesn't have an answer for that.

There's something building within her. It's building and piling as her head tilts to the right, her hand forcing him further down until the positions are reversed and _she's_ the one towering over _him._With his free hand, he swings at her but she dodges it easily, barely moving and she feels the crunch of his bones breaking beneath her fingers as she twists his fist and holds it down. Her ears perk up, picking up on the sound of his heart thrumming impossibly fast inside his chest and she smirks.

But Jesse doesn't give in easily, even as he's howling out in pain as four of his fingers break like feathers beneath his grip. He jerks forward, trying to push her back but she drops his hand and jolts out the way. It feels like she's been given a second chance, or a new life, or a million bursts of adrenaline and energy and even as Jesse climbs to his feet, she knows she's going to win.

He lurches at her, throwing his unharmed fist at her face but she steps to the right. He gasps, stumbles but tries to hover into the air but she's too fast, wrapping her fingers around his ankle and tugging down until he slumps against the ground, his forehead hitting the cold tiles painfully hard. She smirks, completely focused on Jesse as he tries again and again, using his powers to his advantage, even throwing out a heat ray here and there but she's still too good. She's too powerful and not one of his attempts reaches her.

But on one particular punch, she decides to end this. She doesn't want this fight anymore and she knows as she looks at the battle going on on the level below, the second she beats Jesse, the opposing mutants with stop.

She grabs his fist and jerks him towards her. He's breathing heavy, panting almost, and he falls into her with the strength she pulls him. Her spare hand shoots up, grasping him by the throat but not choking him, and she can tell by the way he's staring at her that even he knows this is a lost battle.

"I will take your girl," she says loud, clear and serious, ready to fire back his earlier words but with a little twist of her own. "I will try and beat you, and I _will_ succeed, because Jesse," she leans down close into him, their noses almost touching. Her voice is low and hard when she speaks. "I _am_going to win. You think I'm nothing, but I am something." Her heart beats hard and fast against her ribcage as she continues. "You've made me feel like I was nothing for so many years but I'm not going to sink to your level and get revenge. I'm not going to give as good as I get."

Something about her own words sends her into this weird, calming position. Her hand gently releases its grip from around Jesse's throat, and she sets him back onto the ground, for him only to buckle onto his knees from exhaustion. She looks down at him and suddenly feels this pang inside her chest as his eyes look up at her, waiting for the final strike, the one to take him down.

Except she's not going to do it. Because this pang? This odd tugging feeling in the center of her chest? It's pity.

"Why?" Jesse bares his teeth through his words, lets out a weak snarl. "Why aren't you going to do it? Too weak?"

"No," she replies, softly, shaking her head. "Because I feel sorry for you, Jesse."

Jesse's face drops, anger, hate and rage all seeping from his features.

"I feel sorry for you, because you don't have anyone and you can't keep anyone around," she points out. "Brittany didn't wanna be with you anymore because you couldn't treat her right. She didn't want to be with you and she found me, someone who _could_treat her the way she deserves."

"What, so you think you can give her things I can't?" Jesse fires back and Santana knows he's just trying to get her angry again, but it won't work. "You're poor, you have _one_living relative and so what if you have superpowers? You gonna catch her when she falls over and light the candles on the cheap homemade birthday cake with your eyes?" His eyes beam with anger once more. "You can't give her shit. You don't deserve her. She can do better than you," he spits, but she just laughs beneath her breath.

"Fine," she lifts a shoulder and offers her her palms up. "Maybe I can't give her everything. Maybe I can't take her out to hundred dollar dinner dates like you can. Maybe I can't drive her home from school because I don't have a car. Maybe I can't introduce her to my parents because I don't have any, but I can protect her and love her." Brown eyes flicker over into the corner, meeting bright blue, shining back at her. "I can give her all the love in the world and I just hope that's enough for her," she says, directing it towards Jesse but staring at Brittany. She slides her eyes back to the guy in front of her. "And I know for a fact I can give her so much more than you can, so don't try and use Brittany as a way to beat me, Jesse. It's not gonna work."

"So it's just weakness then," he tries and she almost rolls her eyes. "You can't defeat me and kill me because you're just _weak?_Because you're too much of a pussy to do it?"

A light chuckle flows from her mouth and Jesse's jaw clamps down, clenching at her as his eyes narrow into tiny slits. "No, I'm neither of those," she keeps her eyes firmly locked on his. "But I know that you deserve more punishment than a quick death, and a jail sentence will do that just fine."

"I'll come after you," he grits out, blood dripping from his temple. "When I get out, and I will, I'll come after you."

"Then come after me," she shrugs, because honestly, it doesn't even bother her. "But then I'm just gonna beat you again, and again, and again, until you're so humiliated that you can't show you face around here anymore."

Outside the ruckus of the fighting going on downstairs, and the harsh breathing and quickened pulses of everyone on this level, Santana picks up on the sound of sirens. It's a welcoming sound and it seems Jesse's hearing must not be on point, or he must not be able to pick up on it because he doesn't react. Maybe that machine only temporarily transferred her powers to him. Would explain why he's kneeling in front of her and not trying to kick the crap out of her like he was before.

"I'll get my revenge. I will."

Santana's face spreads into a grin and she laughs at him. "You can try," she says and walks backward to Brittany who immediately gets up, scampers to her and grabs onto her hand, clutching it like it's her life raft. "You can try but you won't be able to."

Tires screeching, engines stopping, guns cocking and heavy footsteps all flow through Grand Central Station and into Santana's ears as she stares down at her opponent, feeling nothing but sympathy for him. She shakes her head and squeezes Brittany's hand, and blue eyes just flick to her as she nods and whispers, "Let's go."

Brittany just smiles at her, but as they begin walking to the top of the set of stairs, looking over the many mutants now on the floor, and George and Eddie fighting off the remaining ones, Santana freezes, all her senses perking up as she listens to Jesse climb to his feet. Her head twists to look at Brittany, and her jaw drops open as she listens to Jesse's growl, all the blood rushing to his head as he fires up the heat ray behind his eyes, ready to shoot. And she's just about to move, _just _about to react and do something when she hears another two footsteps and then a loud clunk of two objects hitting each other.

She whips her head around, just in time to see Jesse's eyes roll off in different ways as he slumps to the floor, hitting the tiled floor _hard._She winces, but then sees the reason for Jesse falling and a smile pulls at her lips until she's laughing. Because it wasn't Quinn or Russel, or anyone she suspected that knocked Jesse out, it wasn't anyone that was fueled by anger caused by Jesse.

No, instead, it was Anthony.

Anthony, the small awkward boy, who's now standing there with a sheepish smile on his face, grasping a handgun in his left hand. A gun that only a second ago he was hitting Jesse over the head with. And all the explanation he has to give as Santana raises an eyebrow at him is, "He was really starting to piss me off."

Santana just laughs at him, slides her arm around Brittany's waist and begins walking down the stairs again, ready to ride off into the sunset with Brittany.

Well... That was the plan until a SWAT team, dressed head to toe in black uniform, grasping large professional looking machine guns burst in through the doors and one of them yells for everyone to freeze.

Due to the battle being lost, Jesse being defeated and everything else panning out the way it would for Superman or Spiderman or any other superhero that has a movie, all the remaining opposing mutants, all the 'good guys' and all the humans, all do as their told, slowly lifting their hands into the air because that's what movies do.

And well... Maybe riding off into the sunset will have to wait.

But as several of the SWAT members spread out, tugging everyone's hands behind their backs and throwing handcuffs around their wrists, Santana just look at Brittany with a soft smile—despite the rough treatment the SWAT team is giving them—she knows that waiting a little more to ride off into the sunset isn't that bad. Not after everything they've been through.

Because they're together, the city is now safe, and even though there's a few more slightly problematic factors that may develop including Santana being publicly outed as a super mutant, they're together.

And that's all that really matters.

* * *

**Epilogue to come! Hope you enjoyed! And leave a review if you can, please! Would be greatly appreciated :)**


	20. Part Twenty: Epilogue

**Title: **A Whole New World (With You) [Epilogue]  
**Rating: **R  
**Word Count: **7.2k

**Notes: **I'm so sorry about the wait on this but I had a minor lapse in inspiration. But anyways, thank you so much for sticking with me through this and it's been a pleasure to write! Hope you've enjoyed it as much as I have!

* * *

Brittany's sitting at home, trying to ignore her cousins running about the house and the questions her auntie and uncle are firing at her about what she's going to do after graduation, when her phone rings. It's like the heavens is shining down on her because not only does she get an escape, but she gets to talk to none other than Santana; _the _most amazing girl to have ever walked this earth. Or flown on it. Whatever she does with those powers of hers.

"Sorry," she apologizes, flashing her aunt an apologetic grin and holding out her cell. "I've got to get this."

Her auntie looks her over but ends up nodding curtly and twisting around on her seat to talk to her husband again, and Brittany takes this opportunity to make her way out into the foyer, pressing the green button and lifting the phone to her ear. Except it's also at that exact moment that her cousins decide to run about, screaming and yelling and so she does the only thing she can and walks out the front door, tucking her hand beneath her arm to warm up.

"Hey," she breathes into the cool air when she's finally surrounded in silence.

Santana chuckles down the line and Brittany's heart swoops at the sound. _"Hey, gorgeous. How you doing?"_

"M'okay," she mumbles back, turning to look back at her house. She can see her parents through the living room window and her cousins switching on various lights upstairs as they run room to room, and lets out a long sigh. It's not like she's not used to family parties because the Pierce's have them like five times a year, but everything's just so much more boring now since Santana's come into her life. Everything just fades to gray and Santana's the only one that can bring back the color.

"_No, you're not. What's up, sweetie?"_

Brittany's lips tug up at the side at the term of endearment, but for some reason she doesn't say the real reason for her sadness; instead, coming up with something else. "My relatives have been on my back about what I'm doing after graduation," she sighs, starting into a walk and heading for the kids park down the road. "They're just annoying."

Santana hums down the line, and she can tell she's sad by the noise. _"I'm sorry, Britt Britt."_

"It's fine," Brittany forces out. "Just talking to you has made me feel a little better."

"_In my head I'm kissing you right now," _Santana tells her and Brittany throws her head back a little as she laughs, pushing open the gate to the park and walking in, stopping by the monkey bars.

"Me too," she pouts, lowering herself to the ground and leaning back against the cold concrete. It makes her smile, but just the thought that she's _not _actually kissing Santana right now, or that Santana's not by her side puts this weird pressure on her chest and reminds her that she hasn't seen her girlfriend in weeks now. Days without seeing each other is torture, so weeks is like, whatever is worse than torture, but not death. This is confusing.

"How's school?"

"_School isn't as fun anymore."_

Brittany's eyebrows knit together as her hand sneaks upon her stomach, fingertips drumming against the fabric of her shirt as she stares at the sky. She thought Santana was having a good time at school and now she's kind of concerned. Can mutants bully other mutants? Wouldn't they just like, kick each other ass' with whatever power they had? "Why's that?"

"_I'm not the once-nerd who got with the hottie anymore," _Santana chuckles and Brittany rolls her eyes, now slightly less concerned.

"I thought it was something serious, San!"

"_It is!" _Santana argues, her voice slightly distorted by what sounds like wind. _"I was the nerd who suddenly turned cool 'cause I got the hottest girl in school to fall for me. I was kick ass back at McKinley with an awesome rep and now I'm just an awesome student teacher!"_

Brittany giggles lowly, bringing her hand up to snigger into her hand. "Such a tough life," she says, sarcastically. "It must be hell."

"_It is. Trust me."_

"I do," she replies, moving up into a seated position as her legs cross beneath her. They stay silent for a few seconds, just listening to each other breathing down the phone and Brittany can't quite figure out what the hell her girlfriend's doing down the other line but she guesses she must be outside or something. After all, the mutant academy is a boarding school (which, by the way was totally set up and funded by Russel Fabray—who would've seen that coming?) and Santana stays there some weekends, hence the lack of meetings between her and her girlfriend. It sucks, but she understands that Santana needs to be with her own kind of people because that's just fair.

"I miss you."

She doesn't even know she's said it until she hears Santana sigh down the line.

"_I miss you, too," _Santana breathes and something in Brittany's chest tightens. _"I can't wait to see you."_

It makes her a little happier and she bounces in her spot, jigging around in excitement. The mere thought of seeing her girlfriend gives her the biggest butterflies and she just can't ever imagine being happier than she is now. Santana is—without doubt—the best thing that's ever happened to her; and that includes rescuing a baby duck when she was seven years old.

"When is that?" She asks tentatively. She wants to know but at the same time she's kind of worried she's going to bug Santana. There's nothing she wants less than to be one of those weird, possessive girlfriends and she knows she isn't needy, but she just needs Santana around her because everything's better. It's addictive to be around Santana, if she's honest. Everything about Santana, in fact, is pretty damn addictive; from her laugh to her eyes, and her lips to the way she ducks her head and looks up through her eyelashes whenever Brittany stares at her dreamily.

(Yeah, she totally knows she does that.)

(How could she not when it's Santana?)

"_Now, actually."_

Confusion strikes her instantly and she sits up bolt right, head snapping from side to side, eyes scanning the park; but she comes up with nothing. It's just an empty park, and now that she thinks of it, it's kind of really creepy. Especially with that weird clown painted on the side of the slide.

"You're lying," she accuses, affection in her tone as she lets the disappointment sink in. "You're not here."

"_Look up, dork," _Santana says through a chuckle and Brittany all about breaks her neck as she cracks it back, finding her girlfriend directly above her, hanging from the monkey bars—upside down, mind you—with the largest grin on her face.

And well, Brittany sort of dies, falls in love again, and soars into the air with the happiness she feels buzzing around inside her chest.

* * *

Damn, she's missed Brittany.

She knew she had because the majority of her time was spent on those thoughts going on around in her mind, all of which had something to do with golden hair and sapphire eyes, but this is a whole other feeling. Standing—or rather hanging—right in front of Brittany after four weeks of not seeing her makes Santana's chest feel like it's caving in — but in a good way. It's like the puzzle pieces finally click together, like the Brittany shaped hole in her heart has finally been filled and it's like she can breathe easy now.

But God, she still can't really think anything besides how much she's missed this girl. She's missed those eyes, the way they look at her and how Brittany makes her feel warm, safe and comfortable just by being in her presence. It's sort of ridiculous, but Santana's so pathetically and hopelessly in love that now, even just looking at Brittany is making her feel all kinds of giddy.

God only knows what will happen when she kisses her.

"Creeper," Brittany finally says, breaking the silence as she climbs to her feet and turns, around a meter away from Santana. In her opinion, that's way to far away but then again, she is hanging upside down on some children's playground equipment so whatever.

"I was _not _creeping," she retorts, face twisting into a mock frown.

Brittany shuffles forward barely an inch and thumbs the hem of her shirt. "So you spend your time hanging upside down on monkey bars in children's parks all the time then?" She quirks an eyebrow knowingly and damn, that's actually pretty fucking hot.

Though, she totally does have a good point, and so even though Santana narrows her eyes and tries to think of a way to defend herself, the facts are right there and she ends up grinning, shaking her head and listening to the way Brittany's heart skips a beat in her chest at the sound of it. Fuck. Having enhanced senses makes being in love like, a million times more amazing.

Which is what leads her to a reply that isn't something lame. "I only creep in kids parks when there's a hot blonde waiting for me."

And bam. Just like that she's won. Brittany grins, scrunches her face up and lets out one of the most adorable laughs in the entire history of the universe and Santana melts inside.

"Okay," the blonde whispers, shifting forward until Santana can hear the blood rushing around in her girlfriends veins. "You win."

"I win?" She echoes, her attention peeking. "What's my prize?"

Her voice dips as she questions her girlfriend, the suggestive tone seeping in and it earns the most heavenly giggle from Brittany as she covers her mouth, trying to muffle it as her body turns away, almost shyly. Though as Santana stares, completely enamored by the most wonderful girl in the world stood right in front of her, Brittany's giggles slowly begin dying down and she inches closer, her eyes a sparkling blue as they gaze at her with such affection; and it makes Santana's heart damn near burst from her chest as she thinks that she's the only person that gets that look.

Somehow she was lucky enough to be picked by this angel and she takes in an unsteady breath, wetting her lips as the look on Brittany's face turns cheeky, long, pale fingers toying with the hem of the flimsy shirt wrapped around her torso.

"Well," Brittany draws out, a fake Texan accent tingeing her tone. "I think a kiss'd do you well, don't you darlin'?"

Santana's face splits into a grin as she stares at her girl. She really has no idea how someone can go from the most adorable being on earth to the goofiest, but hey, she's not going to question it. It's like magic tricks; if she learns the way it works, it'll lose it's appeal and she's more than okay with never knowing how Brittany makes her heart swell so big inside her chest it might one day burst straight from it.

Still though, she loves that Brittany's being goofy, that Brittany's playing with her and so she decides to play right back, dropping her expression into a nonchalant one and crossing her arms over her chest, which is actually harder than it looks when she's hanging upside down.

"I guess that's okay," she says with a shrug, pretending to show disinterest by allowing her eyes to wander off behind Brittany.

But the blonde knows she's playing because she steps closer, her face now level with Santana's, barely four inches between them, and she rolls her eyes, her hands coming up to the lapels of Santana's jacket, fingers wrapping around the fabric and tugging a little. "How lovely of you to endure such pain as a prize," she smirks, moving closer.

"It is just... _awful_," Santana gets out, already anticipating the feeling of Brittany's lips pressed against hers after this long.

Brittany just ducks her head though, sparing one glance into Santana's eyes before whispering, "Shut up," against her mouth and bringing their mouths together.

It's a little weird at first because they've done a lot of things, but kissing upside down isn't one of those but Santana doesn't have time to dwell on those thoughts before Brittany's smiling against her mouth, shifting forward and sliding her fingers up through dark hair. The kiss twists and a delighted moan slips past Santana's lips as Brittany sucks in her bottom one, swiping her tongue slowly across it.

They kiss and kiss, switching from pecks to long, slow ones with hot strokes of the tongue which makes Santana clutch at Brittany's forearms and seriously wish that they weren't in a damn park right now. They declare their love for each other through the kiss, Santana barely pulling back to whisper those three words against pink lips before claiming them once more, pressing harder and urging Brittany closer. It's slow and soft to make up for the lack of physical affection between them in the past weeks. It's hard and slightly frantic, as Brittany flicks her tongue against Santana's, to make up for the lack of intimacy between them and it's long and drawn out to make up for the missed kisses over the past few weeks and shit, Santana can freaking taste the love and unfortunately, the lonely nights and aching hearts in this kiss and wants to grab them, bottle them up and throw them away because she hates that she hasn't been able to be close to Brittany for so long because of life getting in the way.

She hates it, but she knows the only thing she can do now is make up for it by being with her and so she kisses her harder, rolling her tongue against Brittany's until Brittany has to break the kiss, panting hard with wide, dark eyes and swollen, pink lips. Yet Santana's panting too, and that's definitely saying something considering she doesn't actually _need _to breathe, but she just smiles, letting herself feel this because even as a mutant who has no natural human needs like breathing, Brittany still manages to take Santana's breath away.

Grinning, a little dazed, Brittany kisses her on the nose. "Hey," she greets, noticing the lack of Santana's attention.

Santana pulls herself out of it immediately, her lips curling into a grin. "Hey, beautiful."

And then they just stare at each other for a long moment, slender fingers sliding over Santana's features before she decides hanging upside down is no longer bringing her the closeness she needs and backs away slowly, using her superhuman ability to hover to keep herself steady as she unhooks her legs from the metal poles and twists until she can plant her feet firmly on the ground. Her hand reaches for Brittany's immediately, fingers sliding together and Santana takes a seat, urging Brittany next to her until their sides are pressed together, hands clasped between them, gripping tightly.

(Santana never wants to let go.)

Brittany leans over, pecking Santana's cheek and Santana turns, eyebrows furrowing momentarily to question it but the blonde just gives a shy smile and shrugs back. She doesn't need a reason to want to kiss her and shit, Santana just fell in love with the girl all over again.

"So, how's school?"

It's a tiring subject, but she supposes Brittany doesn't know anything and so she divulges.

"Busy," she sighs, honestly. If it weren't, there's no way in hell she would've gone this long without seeing her girlfriend. "I don't know, it's kind of weird," she continues, shaking her head and letting her eyes drift down to their intertwined hands as Brittany's thumb brushes over the back of hers comfortingly. "I mean, I'm so advanced with my powers that I get to teach all the other mutants who have the ability to have multiple powers, like I do. They only have like, two or three at most, but it's still pretty weird being a teacher and all," she twists her head, her eyes finding Brittany's. "You know? Like, some of these mutants are older than me and I'm _teaching _them." She shakes her head against, blinking as she looks away. "It's just weird."

Brittany bobs her head, showing understanding and Santana takes this moment to lean over and kiss her on the cheek, giving back the affection she was previously shown. Almost immediately she hears the rush of blood, the skip of Brittany's heart and pulls back to watch Brittany duck her head, the corners of her lips turning up into a soft smile but her eyes straying from dark ones, almost like she's shy; and God, Santana's never wanted to kiss someone so much and so she does just that, pressing her palm against a cold, winter-paled cheek and waiting until Brittany looks at her before kissing her quickly, but gently.

They break, both staying silent and Santana tips their foreheads together, allowing Brittany to catch her breath as her hand skims down the curve of her girlfriend's jaw and the slope of her neck, resting just above the skin covering her heart; the beat of her heart thrumming beneath her palm.

Soon enough, the blonde catches her breath and clears her throat as she leans away, putting a little space between their heads but hands still clutching at each other. "What about Eddie?" She asks, diverting Santana's attention from the lack of her breath. Apparently it works both ways: Santana takes Brittany's breath away, too. "Is he in your class?"

"Yeah. We think he might be able to build his strength enough so he can officially have dual powers," Santana informs her, still smiling from the glazed look in blue eyes.

Taking in a deep breath, Brittany nods and gives a small smile, her eyes now falling back to their hands as she strokes her thumb over the back of Santana's again. It's a comforting gesture, but Santana can't help but notice the slight drop in her girlfriend's aura, and expression for that matter.

"That's awesome, San," Brittany breathes, still smoothing her thumb over tanned skin; but then she slowly looks up through her lashes, and Santana looks back but doesn't catch her eye as she glances away again. "I miss you."

Those three words have more of an impact than she expected because she knew that, but having heard the way it was said—with innate sadness—just makes her heart sink and a pressure form on her chest. She doesn't want Brittany to be sad and she swears she'll do everything possible to make sure it's not like that anymore. Even if she has to fly halfway across the country to see her in the middle of the night and return by dawn; she'll freaking do it. Just to get Brittany to smile.

"Winter break's coming for me soon," she says instead of repeating everything she just thought. Brittany looks up at her, eyebrows furrowing like she isn't sure where she's going with this, so Santana elaborates, "And that means I plan on spending _all _my time with you," she tells through a slight smile, her heart leaping when Brittany's face brightens up.

"_All _your time?" She asks, voice a lot higher than it was a minute ago as her body. "Like, nights, too?"

Despite it not being meant to sound sexual, Santana shifts and slightly pinches her thighs together. It's been weeks since she's touched Brittany like that and it's not like she has any experience to go on, but _fuck _is Brittany amazing in bed. Still though, she can see that Brittany isn't trying to tease her right now; she isn't trying to be suggestive and say how they can spend all night with their naked, sweating bodies intertwined as they race toward their orgasms. She's genuinely saying how she can't wait to do all the cute coupley stuff like fall asleep in each others arms and kiss until the sleep takes over and now Santana's thinking about it, she really fucking wants that too.

So with a goofy, head over heels in love look on her face, she nods. "Yeah, baby; including nights."

Brittany scrunches up her nose in the most adorable way possible, but before Santana can boop her on the nose, there's lips on hers and Brittany's kissing her. It's supposed to be a quick peck, she thinks, but then Santana presses into her and she feels a hand slide around to the back of her neck, pulling her deeper into it.

They pull apart shortly after, Brittany from the lack of breath and Santana from the fear of passing out from kissing this girl, but rest their foreheads together.

"You better not go back on your word," Brittany whispers, the hoarseness of her voice making Santana's spine shudder.

But she just kisses her again, a little slower and shorter this time, drawing out the feelings. "Have I ever?" She retorts and Brittany just grins back at her because no, she hasn't.

And she's going to keep it that way.

* * *

A little while later, they're lying on their backs, staring up at the stars visible through the cloudy sky and their hands are playing between them, fingers nudging against each other and stroking over palms and skin. It really is just such a simple touch, but Santana thinks she could just have this forever and be content with it. She just loves the way Brittany makes her feel with a single touch.

"Have you talked to Quinn?"

Santana turns her head, cheek hovering about the concrete of the ground. "Apparently Russel's still doing time," she replies instead of saying yes. "And Jesse isn't coming out any time soon either, so he's gotta hang onto his promise of getting revenge," she recalls, making a joke out of it as she wriggles her eyebrows. "I just can't _wait _to kick his ass again."

Brittany giggles but rolls onto her side, propping herself up on one elbow and letting her other hand linger on Santana's before she drags it to rest on top of Santana's abdomen where their fingers continue to play with each other. "Don't joke about that," she murmurs. "You got hurt last time."

"Because I didn't know how to own his ass," Santana retorts in a feigned ghetto voice.

"San," Brittany whines through a giggle, picking a tanned hand up and flipping it to trace the pads of her fingers over Santana's palm. "I'm serious. When he gets out he's going to come back for us."

A dark eyebrow arches. "And you think I'm gonna let get within five miles of you, Britt?" She asks, rhetorically and Brittany looks up to meet her eye. "No, I'm not. I won't let anyone hurt you and whether he gets out in twenty years or twenty minutes, I'm ready for him." She pauses, takes a breath. "I'm going to protect us and we're going to be fine."

Still seeming unsure, blue eyes hold her gaze. "How do you know that, though?" The blonde asks, lifting her shoulders and letting her eyes drift off with genuine concern shading them. "How do you know you're going to be prepared? That we're going to be together?" She stops and Santana really looks at her. "How do you know he's not going to catch you off guard?"

Santana mirror Brittany's position, propping herself up until she's looking down at her girlfriend and she releases their hands, bringing hers up to cup a pale cheek as she stares deeply into her eyes. "I know because I love you," she answers like it's the most simple answer in the world. "I love you and it doesn't matter whether we're together or apart, or five thousand miles away or five seconds away from each other, I will protect you."

"It's not me I'm worried about," the blonde sighs, taking the hand away from her cheek and clutching it again. "Jesse isn't a nice guy, San. He was able to do damage _without _using his powers," she tells her and Santana tilts her head to the side. "And now we've really pissed him off and he's going to get his revenge and could really hurt you."

Santana can only let out a little chuckle. "Then he can bring his best," she says, lifting Brittany's hand and pressing her lips to the back of it. "But he's not going to hurt me, or you, or anyone. Okay?"

Brittany takes in a deep breath, staring into dark eyes. "Okay," she finally relents through a long exhale as she rolls on to her back. "But you have to swear."

She holds up her pinky and Santana mirrors her position once again, shifting a little closer and looping her own pinky through the offered one.

"I promise," she says, squeezing tightly once before dropping their hands to the space between them.

Then her attention turns to the sky, and silence falls between them, and Santana frowns as a new batch of clouds comes across the stars they're both trying to stare at. She knows they both like looking at the stars, it's one of those weird little things they have in common and it brings her back to the start, back when Brittany was dating Jesse and they spent an evening up on Santana's roof, talking and gazing at the stars. And she can't help but think about how far they've come since then.

Back then she would blush when Brittany even looked at her, and even freaked out when she called Jesse an asshole 'cause she thought Brittany would never speak to her again. Back then, she almost ran away when Brittany realized she didn't have her glasses on, and then thought how stupid it was for her to think about kissing Brittany because she never thought Brittany would want to kiss her back.

Yet here they are, and Santana's actually _got _the girl. She turns her head, cheek almost pressing into the concrete to stare at her girlfriend and damn, she, Santana Lopez, the nerd with the dorky backpack and thick rimmed glasses (and hidden superpowers too) actually got the popular girl. She actually got her and shit, she's literally living the dream. This is what dreams are freaking made of.

So with that thought in mind, she shuffles impossibly close and wiggles her arm beneath Brittany's neck, pulling her on to her arm until the blonde shuffles in, twisting her body and throwing an arm over Santana's waist. A small hum of contentment comes from one of them, she's not sure who, but she just takes in a deep breath and ducks her chin a little, dropping a kiss to the top of Brittany's head to which Brittany replies by tilting her head back and pressing their lips together quickly.

"I love you," is whispered into her lips and she all about dies; she really doesn't know how she got this lucky.

Brittany shifts back, looking back up to the sky and the stars and Santana just watches her in complete awe, though she doesn't get to stare for long because Brittany speaks once more and breaks her from her little daze.

"They're beautiful tonight."

Except Santana's still sort of staring, her eyes locked onto her girlfriend and the words just spill from her mouth without her mind telling them to. "You're beautiful tonight."

Brittany shuffles in her arms to turn and look at her, and Santana doesn't even need to see the blush on her girlfriends face because she hears it coming and instead leans forward, nuzzling their noses together in an Eskimo kiss. Brittany sighs, and Santana sighs too with the overwhelming surge of affection and love that spirals through her body but then her eyes flit to the stars and she frowns as a thick batch of clouds covers a large majority of the stars. If only there were a way to get a closer look...

Bingo.

"Hey, Britt?"

Brittany smiles at her when her eyes flicker back, acknowledging the call of her name. "Yeah?"

"You wanna get a closer look?"

This time it's the blondes turn to frown and she pulls back a little, brows creasing together. "How?

Santana makes it happen so quickly that she's sure Brittany doesn't know what the hell's going on, but one second they're lying together on the cold ground, and the next, Brittany's swept up in Santana's arms bridal style and they're soaring through the air, past the clouds until the sky becomes clear. Long arms wind around Santana's neck, and she clutches her girlfriend closer as she slows to a hover, letting herself relax as the blonde in her arms yelps a little, clearly not wanting to look down.

"Open your eyes," she breathes, leaning close to Brittany's ear.

And she does so; slowly peeling open her blue eyes until they shoot wide open, taking in the stars from here. They're brighter, bigger too, but Santana can't pay much attention to how they look when she has the most beautiful thing in her arms.

"Wow," Brittany whispers breathlessly, slowly getting more comfortable as she loosens the grip on a tanned neck.

Santana just shrugs though, waiting until blue eyes slide back to her to speak. "I've seen better," she hushes and Brittany's eyes immediately sparkle, not going amiss on the meaning behind her words.

Though the shyness sets in immediately, and Brittany pinches her lips up at the side as she whines, "San," before burying her face into Santana's neck. Her hands clutch closer at Santana's shoulders, fingers tightening into the fabric and Santana lets out a throaty chuckle as she holds her girlfriend closer, her eyes scanning over the stars. They really are beautiful from up here.

"I guess there's a bonus to having a mutant as a girlfriend, after all," she says, though of course, as she words leave her lips, her ears tune into the sounds of sirens and a call over a police radio. Her entire body stiffens, arms squeezing slightly more around Brittany and she cranes her neck, her ears perking up as her mind zones out, now completely focusing on this.

Two suspects in a getaway car, running from the police. Robbery from a jewelery store. Down on East 79th Street. They need help.

And since Santana's been revealed to be a mutant and to have multiple powers, and since everyone found out about the 'legendary tale' of how Santana defeated Jesse St. James when it seemed 'all was lost'—yes, there is a book about it now with those quotes in it—she's become the resident superhero that helps out whenever needed, or whenever the police fail at their jobs; which is actually a lot more often than deemed appropriate. It's something she enjoys, most of the time anyway, but it does get annoying when the people need her help at times like these.

She _does_ have a personal life, believe it or not, and she _does _want to spend time with her girlfriend which is getting more and more sparse every time she helps the people. She likes helping the people, and gaining their appreciation, but she also likes kissing her girlfriend, and being with her. Can't she just have a nice balance? Is that so freaking hard?

"Guess there's some negatives, too."

It comes out as a disappointed sigh and Santana snaps out of her daze immediately, eying her girlfriend curiously.

"You have to go," Brittany states. "Don't you?"

Guilt pours through her and her mouth moves to say something, but nothing comes out. "Britt, I—" she stutters, wetting her lips and dating between looking at her girlfriend and looking away guiltily. "I'm sorry, baby," she finally lands on, the sound of screams and tires screeching now impossibly loud in her ears.

She hates that she just has to leave because some selfish asshole decided to raid a jewelery store for a few thousand dollars. But as always, Brittany's amazing and there's lips on Santana's before she knows it, Brittany kisses her quickly, putting a smile on her face as she breaks it.

"It's fine, babe. A superhero's gotta do what a superhero's gotta do," she says through a smile, and Santana can't seem to find a lie in her words.

Still though, Santana feels guilty and chews on her bottom lip, knowing that despite accepting that Brittany's not going to be pissed or upset by this, she still doesn't want to leave. It's just unfair. "Still, B... it sucks."

Brittany nods, but there's a smile on her face. "It does," she confirms. "But I love you for what you do, so go do it and come sleep at mine afterward," she says, poking Santana on the nose with the tip of her finger.

And she can't think of anything better, so she nods and begins flying back to Brittany's house. It only takes two minutes, and she quickly ducks through Brittany's bedroom window after unlatching it, setting her girlfriend down as she begins to undress. Her clothes come off, and Brittany smiles at her softly, taking the stripped clothes and folding them neatly over her arms until Santana's left in her uniform, chin held high with her dark, glossy locks flowing around her shoulders, blown slightly from the breeze coming in from the window.

It's a routine they do more than often, and even though Santana doesn't enjoy that after it—fly away to danger, not knowing what awaits but knowing full well Brittany worries about her and misses her every second she's gone—she loves that it's always a sweet 'see you later,' never a goodbye.

* * *

"_Goodbye, Britt," Santana said, throwing a leg over the window, ready to fly off to the call she overheard on the radio._

_But Brittany grabbed her arm, stopping her. "Not goodbye. See you later."_

_Santana frowned in confusion. "They're the same—"_

"_I don't like goodbyes. Sometimes there's never a hello to follow it," Brittany explained with a shrug and sadness in her eyes and Santana got it straight away._

_Because Brittany was scared for her; terrified that she'd never come home after one of these calls and with that thought, Santana climbed back into her girlfriends bedroom, grabbing the blondes hips and she pulled her against her, kissing her hard. They stood there for long moments, trading hot, meaningful kisses and Santana had to pull away first, cupping the back of her girlfriends neck and tilting it down to press a solid kiss to her forehead as Brittany panted hard against the hollow of her neck._

"_I'll see you later," she whispered against pale skin. "Just keep an eye on the moon."_

_She whisked away and flew out the window without another word, and Brittany just stepped up to the window, leaning out of it as she watched her girlfriend fly away._

* * *

"I'll be over later," she mutters, stepping forward to press their lips together, slowly and softly. She breaks, foreheads resting against one another and doesn't make further attempts to move, just breathes in a cycle with her girlfriend and marveling in their togetherness, like they always do before Santana has to go out to a call. "I promise."

Brittany takes in a deep breath before exhaling and pulling away. "Okay," she says through another exhale, opening her eyes and meeting dark ones. "Now go be a hero."

She shoots Santana a grin and Santana mirrors it, ducking out of Brittany's window with one final kiss before moving to fly off; yet she hears Brittany's voice, or rather Brittany calling her name, and she stops, turning around in mid-air, her cape blowing with the night breeze as she leans back through the window, hands resting on the window sill to keep herself level.

"Yeah?"

Brittany walks toward her, lowering herself into a crouch to meet her height and her eye. "I love you," she says honestly and Santana grins, unable to stop herself from kissing her again.

"I love you, too," she whispers against her mouth before pulling back and flying away.

It's time to kick some ass.

* * *

It's 1am by the time she returns to Brittany's house. Half an hour spent surveying how to approach this without causing ultimate destruction, and then ten minutes actually going through with her plan. Another fifteen minutes handing over the two crooks to the police and then another five, laughing with a cop she always runs into—Matt Rutherford—about what kind of an idiot would steal two thousand dollars worth of jewelery, try to get away in a Viper on a freaking highway, only to wrap it around a cinder block in the center of the road.

Criminals really are idiots.

But anyway, she's back at Brittany's and climbs through the window, eying her sleeping girlfriend in bed as she strips herself from her uniform, grabs the pair of sleep shorts and shirt Brittany always leaves out for her on the side table and steps into them. Then she heads over to the bed and slides in behind her girlfriend, pressing herself against Brittany's back.

"Hey," she whispers, nuzzling down but Brittany turns over, smiling sleepily and kissing her lazily in greeting.

"Hi," the blonde croaks out, snuggling further into Santana and tucking her head beneath her chin, nose nuzzling into her neck. "How'd it go?"

Santana shifts a little, trailing her fingers up Brittany's spine after turning onto her back and letting the blonde drape haphazardly over her. "Fine. Asshole crashed into a cinder block after I took out his wheels and I managed to yank them out the tangled mess of the car as the cops pulled up."

Brittany's nose wrinkles against tanned skin and Santana can just imagine how utterly adorable her girlfriend looks right now.

"Is that why you smell of oil and gas?" The blonde whispers, pulling her head back to look into dark eyes.

"Yeah," Santana nods in confirmation, her fingers now tangling through strands of blonde hair at the back of Brittany's neck. "The car was about to explode and I was near it, dragging the douche bags out."

It's the wrong thing to say because Brittany's face immediately goes from panicked to thoroughly concerned and she's suddenly a lot more awake, the sleep shooting straight from her appearance as she takes in the world 'explosion' and 'near it.'

"Oh my God," the blonde breathes, her eyes watering. Santana reaches around, confusion setting in and she wipes away a stray tear.

"What?"

"Are you okay?" Brittany asks, her voice cracking as she gulps and Santana nods, wanting nothing more than to comfort her girlfriend immediately.

"I'm fine, babe. I manage to stop the explosion before it even happened, so no-one got hurt."

Brittany immediately settles down, her breathing going back to normal and head lying back beneath Santana's chin. "Your weird breath thing?"

Santana chuckles, humming instead of saying yes as Brittany's nose begins skimming up the muscle in her neck, her lips and warm breath brushing over her jaw. "Yeah," she confirms, swallowing audibly. "Who knew I had more powers than I thought?"

"_Mmhmm,_" Brittany muffles the sound against tanned skin as she begins purposely pressing her lips down against Santana's neck, sucking against her pulse point; and suddenly Santana feels the shift in the air. Heat and arousal floods through her and she's suddenly hyper-aware of the hand resting on her abdomen, slowly sliding down and then up, beneath the hem of her shirt to touch warm skin. Short nails scratch lightly at her skin and Santana relaxes, letting herself feel everything as she figures that okay, Brittany's mind is totally elsewhere right now.

She's more than okay with that.

So with that, she quickly flips them, wiggling her body to settle between Brittany's thighs before she presses her hips down, the most delightful and arousing hiss coming through Brittany's lips as Santana smirks down at her. She leans down to kiss her, but pauses right at the last second as their lips ghost over each other to take a long, hard look at the girl beneath her. Hooded, dark blue eyes that are somehow full of love, arousal, lust and affection at the same time stare up at her, and Santana catches her breath as she lets her eyes trail over her girlfriends face, over the way her blonde hair litters across her pillow and over the way it creates an illusion of a halo and shit, Brittany could actually be an angel.

Hands bring her from her thoughts, fingers stroking tenderly over the curve of her jaw and she blinks herself out of it, meeting blue eyes.

"What?" Brittany whispers, the corners of her lips curving up because she definitely knows 'what.'

Still, Santana bites down on her lip, meaning the words she says with every ounce of love within her. "I just love you."

The smile that comes across the blondes face is so beautiful that Santana could probably freaking cry if she wanted to, but then there's lips against her own and Brittany's kissing her, her arms wrapping around her neck as the kiss develops into a long, heated one. Santana shifts to lean on her right side as her left hand quickly slips beneath Brittany's sleep shirt, smoothing up soft skin and tracing over ribs before sliding up further to her breast, her nipple hardening beneath her touch and against her palm.

But just as she moves to press her hips down once more, Brittany pulls away from the kiss, her eyes wide, lips swollen and hair tousled against the pillow as she cradles Santana's head in her hands, keeping her firmly in her place, despite the intense confusion.

"I love you, too, by the way," she quickly interjects.

Santana just grins at the overwhelming sense of happiness that thrums through her as she presses their lips back together, her hand sliding down from Brittany's breast and dipping beneath the waistband of her shorts.

And really, whoever knew that the too-smart Puerto Rican nerd could have the happiest of all endings with the most wonderful girl in the world?

Santana literally lives in a fucking fairytale, and she can't think of anything better than spending the rest of her days with the love of her life, tangled up in bed with her or showing her off to the world.

So she does just that.

* * *

**Thanks again guys! It's been a pleasure to write for you, and I can totally see a sequel happening if that's what people would like!**

** Please, just leave a review to say what you thought and what you think of the sequel idea!**

** If not, thanks again and hope you enjoyed!**


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